


Two Cures for Love

by lizzywinks



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, M/M, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:38:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzywinks/pseuds/lizzywinks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Jensen was eight years old when the egg he found impossibly hatched into a dragon who only stuck around long enough to take a chunk out of his ear and set fire to his house before vanishing.</p><p>Twenty years later, and Jensen is still trying to convince himself that he imagined the whole thing (and his family that he isn't a pyromaniac), when the dragon reappears on his doorstep.  Only this time Jared is a lot bigger than he was when they first met, and he's walking on two legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Cures for Love

_**Two Cures for Love**  
     1. Don't see him. Don't phone or write a letter.  
     2. The easy way: get to know him better.  
~Wendy Cope_

*~*

It's hot. Texas is always hot, but today Jensen's really feeling it; He-Man t-shirt sweat-sticky against the small of his back and hair curling damply at the nape of his neck.

 _Time for a hair cut, baby_ his mom had said just that morning. He'd shaken away the soft fingers running through his hair to scratch at his scalp—he was eight for cripes sake, way too old for all the hugging and petting mush his mom loved—but otherwise Jensen agreed. He's spent most of the day staring blankly at the chalkboard, Mrs. Carlyle's words filtering slow and indistinct into his brain through a mist of heat and a distant ache that started out in his head and spread down through his limbs until now even his _toes_ hurt.

All he can think about is getting home and grabbing a soda from the fridge. Maybe he'll fill a glass with ice, drink it down with one of McKenzie's stupid crazy straws; he never admits it when she insists she can't drink her chocolate milk without one, but he thinks they're kind of cool. 

The problem is that when he glances up, he sees that he's still got another four blocks to go, and thinking about the ice-cold drink has only made him even hotter. 

Mitchel Harris's mom had been supposed to collect them both from school, but Mitchel had fallen off the monkey bars at recess. The sick crack of bone and the blood and snot from Mitchel's tears trickling sluggishly from his nose had nearly caused Jensen's stomach to revolt, but he'd managed to hold it back just in time. 

Afterwards, everyone had been sent back to the classroom early, and Jensen guesses his ride home had been forgotten in the upheaval. By the time his muddled thinking had figured it out, he'd missed his bus, and landed himself with a forty minute walk. Normally, he can make it in twenty minutes easily if he runs, but today it's just beyond him. 

Now though, legs heavy and head pounding, he wishes he'd gone back to the office, asked them to call home for him; he could already be lying in his bedroom deliciously chilled from the air conditioning and waiting for his mom to bring him his soda and a snack. 

Jensen's stomach gurgles warningly. _Ugh_ maybe not a snack.

He's lost in thought about how soon he can strip out of his sticky clothing and rest his aching legs, when a flash of light catches his attention. He pauses, glances over the high grass edging a ramshackle house, and squints into the bushes surrounding it. 

The air is heavy and still, birdsong and a distant lawnmower the only sound breaking the silence. He pushes the first few spindly branches out of his way, but sees nothing, nothing that would shine like that, anyway. He's just about to turn away and restart his slow trudge for home, when the glint comes again. This time, Jensen is close enough that he knows where to focus his search. 

He's buried up to his shoulders in soft grass and prickly bushes when he realizes he's caught the edge of his t-shirt on something. He tugs carefully, because it's one of his favorite t-shirts, and then more firmly when it doesn't budge. He's progressed to frantic flailing when the gleam catches his eye once more, and he freezes, eyes roving over the shadowed lumps of dirt and foliage, and there, just a fingertip further than he’s able to reach, he can see something gold and gleaming from under the cover of a huge fronded plant. 

Jensen forgets all about his struggles to free himself, his aching bones and the sweat drenching him, and edges forward; right arm extended painfully, shoulder muscles screaming at the stretch until with a low, tearing sound of fabric he pulls himself loose and crawls hurriedly toward the soft light ahead. 

He hesitates once he's close, and then slowly stretches his arm out, fingers ghosting over the surface of the object. It's smooth and warm to the touch, like a rock baked hot in the summer sun. He's almost got it in his grasp, pads of his fingers running curiously over it, when he feels a soft vibration start up, and jerks hurriedly back on his heels.

A thorn drags across the skin of his cheek, and Jensen hisses, bringing up his palm to press against the sore flesh, and then pulls it quickly away when the loose dirt stings the fresh cut. 

The pounding in his head sparks suddenly hard and heavy and Jensen looks behind him to where he can see the sidewalk bright and inviting. It's probably just a piece of glass anyway, reflecting the sun, nothing worth getting scratched up over, and his mom's gonna be mad about his shirt too. 

But then, he _is_ already here... Jensen glances back, the gloom under the bushes seeming to lighten as he watches, and, with a shrug, he crawls forward again, more careful this time of the thorns and branches surrounding him. 

When he's finally cleared a path and can see the thing fully at last, he lets out a soft sound of awe.

It's an egg. A _huge_ one, nearly as big as the ostrich egg Daisy Allcock brought in for show and tell. There's no light coming from it now that Jensen has it fully uncovered, and he's not sure how the sun could have caused a reflection all the way back here in the first place, but the vague thought is drowned out by how pretty the egg is; misty gray at the base bleeding into soft greens and blues toward the top, and all of it glowing with a soft, lustrous sheen, like it's been varnished. 

Now that he’s holding it, there’s no hint of the vibration he thought he’d felt before so he figures he must have just imagined that, too, but it's warm and heavy in his hand, fragile and solid all at once.

Jensen edges carefully back out and clambers to his feet as soon as he can stand. He feels a little dizzy from the hot, cramped jungle he's just crawled from, but the discomfort fades into the background when he gazes down at his prize. 

The egg is awesome, special he's sure. At school, they've just finished a project on the rain forests. Maybe, somehow, Jensen has found a parrot egg, or something even more exotic, like a giant lizard or a crocodile! He remembers a picture of eggs soaking up the heat under a sunlamp, and wonders if maybe his bedside lamp would work, wonders if his mom would let him keep whatever hatches.

He holds the egg gently in his hand for a moment longer, feels a soft quiver against his palm, and then tucks it carefully into his backpack. 

The journey home seems suddenly easy as pie.

  


"But, Mom, I don't want to go out and play!"

Chad isn't Jensen's favorite playmate at the best of times, but their moms are friends so Jensen often has little choice. Normally, he doesn't mind so much because Chad actually has some pretty cool toys, even if he doesn't like to share them, but he's busy right now. 

Several books are spread open across his bed, his dad's encyclopedias and a couple of Josh's school science and biology books, along with some drawings he's been working on. His favorite is a bright green crocodile, scales sketched out in gold with huge brightly coloured wings spread open behind him as he swoops through a jungle forest of trees. 

The egg is nestled snugly in his ruined He-Man t-shirt on Jensen's bedside table, both of his bedside lamps balanced on it and shining down brightly onto the colorful shell. His dad had helped him set it up while his mom warned him gently not to be too disappointed if it didn't hatch. 

Jensen isn’t worried; his mom had refused to let him leave his lamps on all night, and despite his best arguments, she couldn't be budged. When he was sure his mom wouldn't be back in to check on him, he'd moved the egg into bed with him and slept with it tucked safely in the soft spot between his neck and shoulder. The shell had felt warm and silky against his skin, and he'd woken a few times to a soft vibration rumbling through him, like when their old cat, Ming, had curled up on his lap, rasping rattle shaking his fury chest when Jensen had petted him. 

Protected, safe and warm inside it's shell, Jensen knows his egg is just waiting to hatch. The only thing he isn't sure of is what it will be. He's had no luck identifying the egg, but he thinks he'd prefer a reptile of some kind to a bird, which would be kind of hard to hide. A crocodile would be best. He knows from his dad's books that caiman crocodiles inhabit the rain forest, but even dwarf caiman grow as big as 5 feet long. 

His mom won't even let them get a dog; there's no way she's going to let him keep a crocodile, no matter how awesome it would be or how much he promised he would be the one to take care of it. Jensen shrugs—he'll worry about it once the egg has hatched.

The sound of the doorbell ringing sets Jensen's face into a ferocious scowl.

"That will be Chad; be nice, Jensen, you know he doesn't have many friends."

Jensen wants to tell his mom there's a reason for that, but he stifles the urge; there's every chance talking back could earn him a sleepover, and there's no way he's risking spending any more time in Chad's company than he absolutely has to.

He adjusts the lamps, wraps his t-shirt a little more securely around the egg, and looks forlornly behind him one last time before he follows his mom down the stairs.

  


Chad's been missing for about ten minutes when Jensen feels a weird prickle inching it's way down his spine. He looks up from the Hot Wheels cars he's been revving around the huge track they've laid out and tilts his head to one side, listening.

There's no sound coming from the kitchen where Chad had disappeared to get a soda, or from the bathroom off the family room they're currently occupying. In fact, there's no sound coming from anywhere. Jensen pushes himself up to his feet and wanders toward the kitchen; no Chad, and no sign of his mom either, just the bubbling hiss of the large soup pot on the stove. 

Jensen purses his lips and considers hunting Chad down (which he knows his mom would say he should do), versus the obvious benefits of heading back to play some more without him. 

He's half turned back toward the family room when a sudden thought occurs that sets Jensen's heart pounding and sends him flying away from the room and down the hallway.

"Chad! Why are you up here?" he demands breathlessly when he finds the other boy at the top of the staircase. "What were you doing?" He doesn't pause to give him chance to answer and pushes past him into his bedroom. Everything seems to be where he left it, but there's no reason for Chad to have ventured up to the first floor alone unless he'd been snooping, and Jensen swings back round, gaze fixed accusingly.

"Nothing." Chad shrugs, looking equal parts sullen and shifty. "I just came to see if you had anything we could play with, but you didn't; your toys are all lame, Jensen."

"Did you touch anything?" Jensen makes his way across his room. On his bed, his drawings are all still there, but they've definitely been moved; his box of art supplies is also looking a little worse for wear. Jensen freezes and darts over to his bed and the small table next to it. He holds his breath as he approaches and then lets out a howl of anger when he finds the t-shirt where he left it, but the egg very definitely gone.

"Where's the egg, Chad?" he shouts, rounding on Chad, who's looking more guilty by the second. "Give it back! Right now!" Jensen's chest is tight with anger and he can feel hot tears threatening, because if Chad has broken his egg...

"I don't have your stupid egg! And it's no use putting it under that dumb lamp anyway; it won't hatch. Eggs in cartons are just dead baby chickens, Jensen! My brother told me!"

"It didn't come from a carton!" Jensen chokes out. "And it isn't a chicken! It's gonna hatch into something else, a parrot or a lizard or...or something better! A crocodile!"

Chad laughs. "You're so stupid, Jensen! Crocodiles don't come from _eggs_."

Jensen rushes forward and shoves Chad as hard as he can. Chad stumbles and hits the floor with a thud, where he sits looking up at Jensen, his cheeks flushed red in anger. "I'm telling your mom on you! You aren't allowed to push!"

"Where's my egg!" Jensen shouts. From downstairs he can hear footsteps as his mom heads toward them. Jensen grabs the collar of Chad's shirt and shakes him. "You'd better give it back, Chad, or you'll be sorry!" 

Chad pushes him off and scrambles to his feet, already running for the staircase and the safety of Jensen's mother. 

"I told you, I don't have your dumb egg, Jensen. I put it somewhere safe—you should thank me, now you don't have to worry about it breaking!"

"What—" Jensen starts, but suddenly he sees again the pot bubbling furiously on the stove in the kitchen and he already knows. 

~*~

"It probably wouldn't have ever hatched, baby."

Jensen buries his head in his pillow and resolutely refuses to turn round. He holds himself stiffly from the hand smoothing soft circles on his tense back. 

"I bet Chad just thought he was helping—" Jensen growls low in his throat and hears his mom sigh. "Okay, okay, we don't have to talk about it right now. Your dad and I were discussing earlier though about getting you a pet. Not a dog," she adds hurriedly, "but maybe something smaller? A turtle or an iguana? I think you're old enough now to be responsible for taking care of an animal of your own, if you’d like?"

Jensen bites his lip and hunches his shoulders until his mom's hand drops away. It leaves him feeling cold and guilty when he hears her sigh again, sounding much sadder this time. 

"Okay, honey, well you think about it and we can go to the pet store at the weekend if you want."

He feels the bed shift as his mom gets to her feet, and then silence as she stands there, the back of his head tingling from where he can feel her staring down at him. 

"How about I take this down with me—" she begins, and Jensen flops over onto his side like a fish trapped in a net to see his mom reaching out toward his egg.

"No!" he says hurriedly, and she snatches her hand back as he grabs for the egg, back sitting nestled on his t-shirt under the darkened lamps. "I just—I may as well keep it now," he says, suddenly afraid she might insist, want to flush it down the toilet like they'd done with Mackenzie's goldfish. "Like a—a souvenir, or something."

His mom is watching him closely, worry and uncertainty warring in her expression. Jensen tries to straighten his own expression out, and it seems to work because after a minute she shrugs and reaches over to smooth her fingers through his hair again. 

"I guess that would be okay." She gazes over at the egg thoughtfully. "It is unusual; such pretty patterns. I wonder what type of egg it was?" Jensen feels his lip wobble, and bites down hard on it again when his mom looks back over at him. "We could go to the library tomorrow after school and look it up. Would you like that?"

Jensen's pretty sure the only thing he'd like less is Chad being allowed back. He doesn't think he can face finding out what magical creature he _nearly_ had. 

"Thanks, mom, but you don't need to. I can check it out at the library at school—they have lots of nature books."

"That sounds good," his mom says, pleased. Jensen nods and allows her to tuck him back into bed. Even though he's much too old now to be tucked in, and he's still kind of mad with her about Chad, but his chest feels tight, achy, like when grandpa Ackles died, or when they moved from their old neighborhood to this one, and he had to leave all his friends behind. He wishes suddenly that she would sit back down on the bed, and rub his back some more until he fell asleep, but she's already heading for the door.

"Night, baby," she says.

"Night, Mom." Jensen coughs hard to cover the roughness of his voice, and then the room is plunged into darkness, only the dim glow of his nightlight left to illuminate the far side of his room. Jensen reaches over and plucks the egg from its nest and hugs it close, the shell cool and smooth against the warm skin of his neck.

Jensen closes his eyes, and lets the hot tears spill free.

  


Jensen wakes to a sharp pain in his side, and the sensation of sunlight burning through his closed eyelids. He feels like he's only been asleep for minutes, and he struggles blearily to surface.

"Mom," he mumbles groggily, wondering why she let him sleep so late. "Have I missed the bus?" he asks, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. Except when he finally drags his eyes open, the curtains are still drawn at his windows, and the rest of the house is silent and still. What his bedroom isn't, however, is dark. 

He blinks, confused, waiting for his vision to clear from what feels like the after-burn from staring too long at the sun, and pushes himself up on his elbow. He hisses when something sharp drags at the tender skin of his arm, and glances down to find he's leaning in the shattered remains of shell, the edges jagged and sharp.

Jensen lets out a soft moan of distress and begins frantically gathering the pieces together, vague thoughts of Krazy Glue running through his head. It’s clear almost immediately though that it’s an impossible task; most of the shell fragments are too small to see let alone to attempt to repair. 

Jensen lets out a shuddering breath and fights down the tears he can feel building again, letting the pieces in his hand drop back down on to the bed. 

The realization that maybe now he can find out what was inside the egg distracts him, but he’s still not sure whether or not he _wants_ to know what he lost, except there isn't really a choice any more. 

He sets his hands reluctantly down to begin a slow sweep of the wreckage left in his bedsheets, when a soft, chirruping sound breaks the silence. Jensen pauses, and then blinks away the still too bright light that's allowing him to carry out his search and reminding he still doesn't know where it's coming from. 

Jensen lifts his gaze, nervous suddenly, and blinks bemusedly when he finds himself staring back into the slanted eyes of a tiny, green dragon peeping out at him from the corner of his bed. 

It isn't a lizard, definitely not a crocodile; Jensen's spent a lot of time researching them since he found the egg, and enough time watching cartoons and fantasy shows to know the small, winged creature looks nothing like anything he's ever seen before in real life. 

There's also the fact that it's glowing, a soft golden yellow shining out from it's scales, but fading away in front of him until the room is left shadowed again. Jensen lets out a shocked word that he knows his dad would tan his hide for if he heard him, and pulls himself up the bed until he's half kneeling, half standing at the head of it, clutching tight at the headboard.

"Dad!" he whisper shouts, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the creature. "Dad, can you hear me? I, there's a―just, come in! Dad? _Josh!_ , Josh, are you awake?" he tries instead, and then clamps his mouth shut when the little creature begins working it's way over the crumpled comforter toward him. 

Jensen scrambles even higher up in his bed, and grabs a pillow to brandish at the advancing— _impossible_ —dragon. "Shoo! Get away from me!" 

The dragon comes to a halt, head cocked to one side curiously, and Jensen pauses in his attempt to tunnel into the drywall. 

_"Jensen?_ he hears a voice say, and he jolts, peering into the gloom that’s fallen to track down his savior. " _Jensen, what's wrong?_ " the voice asks, surprise and the beginnings of hurt in the tone. 

"Who is it?" Jensen hisses, only half of his attention now on the dragon as he edges his leg out from under him. He’s not waiting around any longer for rescue; what if dragon bites are poisonous, like a rattlesnake. "Who's there?"

" _It's me! Jared!"_ the voice comes again, definite hurt now. Jensen wonders if he's dreaming. " _I hatched,_ " the voice continues glumly. " _Like you wanted."_

Jensen collapses back down on the bed, no strength suddenly in his legs. "You're my egg? A dragon?" Jensen edges back up onto his knees, still far enough away that he can drop to the floor and make it―hopefully―to the door before the dragon gets him. But the dragon _is_ very small. Jensen doesn't think he could eat him, and, really, how much poison could there be in such a little body? "Is that―is that really _you?_ " 

The dragon takes a few careful, stumbling steps toward him, and sinks down onto his haunches. " _Yes, it’s me. I thought you’d be glad,_ " he says glumly. His eyes, Jensen realizes, are a swirling mix of greens and blues fading into gray, just like the patterns on the shell. 

"Wow," Jensen breathes. "I _knew_ you wouldn't be a chicken!" He feels a grin creeping over him; wait till Chad finds out. "Oh, hey, how come you already have a name?" Jensen asks suddenly, a little disappointed―he'd been planning a much cooler name for whatever hatched out of his egg.

"From my shell." Jared’s little snout twitches over to his right.

Jensen frowns over at the spot Jared had indicated, and reaches down to pick up one of the few remaining larger shell fragments left there. Inside, he can see the name Jared written in a swirling golden script, that fades and reappears almost faster than he can read.

"Huh, okay," he finally concedes. Maybe Jared isn't such a terrible name.

Jared’s wings fluff out behind him. They look a little stiff, and gooey, like they're covered in slime. Jensen reaches forward to touch them, and the dragon shies away, folding them in tight against the row of quills along his spine.

" _You mustn't touch,_ " the dragon says quickly. "They have to dry first."

"Oh,right." Jensen pulls his hand back awkwardly to rub at his face. "Sorry." And now that he knows that it's the dragon talking to him, Jensen can suddenly hear him clearly, even though his mouth doesn't seem to be moving with his words. "How are you talking to me?"

"I’ve been talking to you since you found me," the dragon says, surprised. "Couldn't you hear me?"

Jensen shakes his head, and the dragon― _Jared_ ―frowns, brows crumpled in confusion or distress. It's hard to tell for sure, Jensen doesn’t have much experience with talking animals outside of cartoons, and he’s not sure a dragon even falls into that category anyway. 

"But then how did you know to heat me up so I could hatch?" Jared asks, distracting Jensen from his thoughts. 

"I didn't!" Jensen blurts out, anger boiling up inside him again. "Chad stole you and put you in with my mom's soup! He was trying to kill you!"

Jared suddenly seems to puff up to twice his small size, the soft little spines along his back standing upright briefly before flopping sadly back down against his scales as if they needed to dry out too. 

"Then I will kill him first!" 

"What?" Jensen says, suddenly cautious. "No, he's a jerk, but you can't _kill_ him. My mom would kill _me_. I don't think he would have boiled you if he knew you were a dragon, anyway," Jensen admits reluctantly, because he has no doubt Chad would have stolen the egg if he'd have imagined for even a second it contained a real live dragon, especially one that belonged to Jensen. "He just thought you were a chicken."

Jared scrunches up his snout in disdain, and a tiny puff of smoke mists out from between his pursed lips. "Is he our enemy?"

"Um, yeah, I guess, but we still can't kill him," he adds hurriedly. "We can't kill anyone." Jared lets out a small growl, and Jensen grins. "You're kinda bloodthirsty, huh?"

Jared shrugs a tiny green shoulder, the look in his eye cunning. "Dragons are warriors! This Chad should be taught a lesson, and death is an excellent lesson. Are you sure we can't kill him? Just a little?"

"I'm sure," Jensen says, briefly distracted by thoughts of what being a little bit dead actually entails. "But yeah, we should teach him a lesson! He'll totally freak out when he sees you. Um, maybe you'd be scarier if you were bigger though―will you get bigger?"

"Yes! I think so. I'm not sure," Jared finally admits. "I believe my brother is big."

"Don't you know?"

"I'm newly hatched. I haven't seen any other dragons." 

"But if you're only a baby then how do you know all this stuff about dragons?"

"I'm not a baby!" Jared stamps his little front legs, claws digging holes into Jensen's Batman sheets and then sinks down onto his rear end, shoulders slumped. "But I am just a hatchling. The nursery is close to the school room though, and I can hear the dragonling lessons sometimes so I know all about our history, and we _are_ warriors!"

"Okay, okay," Jensen says quickly. He doesn't know if anyone else can hear Jared, but he's getting kind of loud now. "I believe you. Doesn't matter anyway how big you are; Chad will probably pee his pants when he sees you."

"Good, then we should go now and I will defend you from The Chad."

"I don't need defending," Jensen huffs out. "I can totally kick his ass myself!"

"You're a warrior too?" Jared asks. He looks a little unhappy at the prospect.

"Well, no, but I know how to fight. Who do dragons fight anyway? Humans?" he asks a little more cautiously.

"I don't think so," Jared says slowly. He begins pacing around the bed, wearing a little pathway as he wanders in a meandering figure of eight pattern that brings him closer to Jensen's foot. He pauses to contemplate Jensen's bare feet, and then his tongue flickers out to lick a wet stripe along his big toe. Jensen bites back an instinctive giggle and crosses his legs to tuck his feet up underneath him. 

"There are no human where I come from. Not anymore."

"Where did they all go? You didn't eat them, did you?" Jensen pulls his feet a little closer to his body until not even a sliver of bare skin is within biting distance. 

"Of course not! A dragon would never eat a human," Jared says as if it's the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "Do humans eat dragons?"

"No, dragons aren't real."

"I am very real!" Jared growls, offended, and then scampers up Jensen's leg to perch on his shoulder before Jensen can even consider pulling away. Jensen's eyes cross as he tries to focus on the little head so close to his own, and he gives up to tilt his head away so he can see all of Jared at once.

"I know! I mean, I think I know. I'm sorry," Jensen says when Jared lets out another, gruffer, growl. "It's just, this is all kind of crazy. Maybe I'm dreaming," he mumbles, the idea taking seed. "Josh says if you pinch yourself when you’re dreaming, you wake up. I don’t want you to go, but this is _so_ weird..."

Beside him, Jared's tail thrashes and he propels himself forward, sharp little claws scratching at Jensen's collar bone until Jared is tucked in under his chin, only a flash of green at the edges of his vision, and the hot, heavy weight against his skin to to tell him were Jared is.

And then, abruptly, he knows exactly where Jared is because he feels a searing pain as Jared's sharp little teeth clamp down on the fleshy lobe of his ear. Jensen lets out a howl of protest and the pressure is gone, Jared darting back down his arm to sit gazing up at him from his thigh. There's a smear of blood on his nose and he looks exceedingly pleased with himself.

"Jared! Not cool! Why did you―" Jensen begins, but then his room is flooded with light, much brighter than when Jared had first appeared, and a sharp, screeching cry rings out. 

Jensen jerks, the hand he has held up to his torn lobe shifting to cover his ears in an attempt to muffle the terrible sound. Jared is looking around, terrified, little puffs of smoke and sparks erupting from his flared nostrils. Jensen wants to reach out a hand to try to comfort him, but the sound is reverberating through his chest, making his whole body vibrate; even his teeth ache, and he can't risk moving his hands and letting any more of that horrific sound in. 

In front of him, the air starts to swirl, like water draining away out of the bathtub. Jared opens his mouth wide and lets out what Jensen at first thought was a panicked screech, but that he eventually makes out over the other, louder screeching, as Jensen's own name. 

Jared's eyes lock with Jensen's, bright with fear, until a blinding white explodes in front of them.

It's the last thing Jensen sees for a while.

*~*

When he next opens his eyes, he's sitting in the back of an ambulance oxygen mask clamped over his face, and the smouldering ruins of the roof of his house just visible over a uniformed shoulder.

He doesn't bother to try and explain. No one will believe him.

  


It's hot. Unseasonably hot for New York at this time of year, and Jensen is really feeling it. It reminds him of home. It reminds him of―

Jensen clamps down ruthlessly on the thought. He hadn't enjoyed the therapy sessions his parents had forced on him, enjoyed even less the wary, hesitant way they'd treated him pretty much right up until he left home for college, as if any second he was going to flip out and set fire to their home. Again.

He reminds himself that it’s been a long time since he’s had to worry about what other people think of him, and turns his attention to putting the groceries away before they spoiled, regretting as always that air conditioning just isn’t worth the risk of the respiratory infections he always seems to get hit with. His mama always blamed the fire, and the smoke he’d inhaled...

Jensen dumps the paper grocery sacks on the table, and turns to yank the window open with unnecessary force. There's so little air though, even as open as his loft apartment is, that mostly all he manages to accomplish is to let in the sounds of traffic below. 

It’s easy to forget sometimes how hemmed in he is in the city, but it’s worth it. The lack of clean air is a fair trade off for the quality of the light that floods in through the huge windows of his apartment, shifting and changing through the day and illuminating his workspace and the images he brings to life. 

Still, he's got no real ties to the place, and maybe it’s time to consider another move. Somewhere he doesn't have to spend the summer cursing the heat and roasting his balls off. 

Jensen lets out a weary sigh at the begrudging breeze that meanders sullenly through the window, and moves back to his unpacking. He opens the fridge to slide the milk inside, and his glance catches on the picture stuck to the front, the drawing of the flying crocodile he did back when he was eight, wings aloft and slanted, laughing eyes wide with glee as it swoops among jungle greenery. 

The drawing is pretty much the only thing that survived his incinerated bedroom, and he has no idea why he still has it. It's hardly a happy memory, but it's pretty much the only possession that’s followed him from childhood to adulthood, dorm room to dorm room, city to city, silently reminding him how tenuous his grasp of reality once was.

Maybe that's why he keeps it.

He has the urge suddenly to hold a match to it, see if there's something special about the construction paper that somehow stopped it going up in flames like every other thing he owned. Rationally, he knows that it probably ended up under something solid, inflammable, and only reappeared when his room was being cleared.

That's what his therapist told him anyway, and he agreed. Not like he had much choice if he wanted to ever stop attending the damn sessions. He's reaching for the candle lighter next to the stove when he catches himself and lets it fall from his grasp as though he's holding a hot flame in his hands. 

Jensen doesn't know why he's suddenly thinking about this. It's been over twenty years, and he hasn't started a single other fire, not even to toast marshmallows on, and he's never once since imagined he found an egg that hatched into a dragon named Jared. He's completely mentally sound, he reminds himself. He had a blip, probably brought on by some kind of virus, and it's not like he's the only kid in the world to have an imaginary friend, even if most of them aren't pyromaniacs.

Jensen reaches for a beer, pauses to consider and goes for a Mountain Dew instead. No sense borrowing trouble.

  


Jensen sits up, stretching the kinks out of his back painfully. He's been working most of the day with only a couple of breaks to grab a quick sandwich and to refill the coffee pot. His hand is cramping badly, but when he casts his eye over his easel, he's pleased with what he sees. For years he'd only collaborated with writers, providing the images based on their words, until his own work had garnered enough attention that he was getting commissions, and then his own shows, until now a piece of J R Ackles original art would make a fairly substantial dent in even the most healthy of bank balances.

Despite that, what Jensen still enjoys most is working with someone else, bringing their world to life, especially when their world is fantasy, even better when it's kid’s fiction and he can lose whole days in fantastical lands, dreaming up impossible creatures that the author has barely sketched out yet without anyone raising an eyebrow. 

He reaches out, ghosts his thumb over the tiny green figure crouching at the bottom right hand corner of the canvas, almost hidden in the fronds of a giant fern. 

_Jared._

Jensen shakes his head, impatient with himself for giving in to the melancholy urge. He'd hoped bringing Jared back to life in paint and ink would settle his thoughts as it usually did, but today the memories are sharp and clear, close enough to reach out and touch. Lurking just behind them is the smell of smoke and the sound of crackling fire, his mother’s tear-stained eyes, his dad’s disappointed gaze.

Jensen thrusts his brushes into the jar, for once not cleaning them straight away. They’re expensive and deserve better handling, but he's decided he's earned that beer after all and isn't in the mood to delay.

He’s almost at the fridge when the sound of a booming knock at the door echoes through the apartment. Jensen startles; no one should be able to get upstairs without being buzzed up. In fact, he doesn't think he's ever even _heard_ anyone actually knock at his door before because he usually has it open and ready by the time the lumbering lift opens to dispatch any guests.

Through the peep hole, he can see someone standing in the small hallway. His back is to the door, but he's tall, very tall, with dark, floppy hair curling over his collar. He seems to be bouncing gently on the balls of his feet, the top of his head intermittently disappearing from view with the motion. Jensen frowns; he doesn't recognize whoever it is, and though he's plenty big enough himself, this is New York and the guy's got a couple of inches, and more than a few pounds of muscle on him. 

He reaches over for the baseball bat that Misha brought him as a housewarming gift, _The city violent crime rate for New York is higher than the national average by 28.5%, Jensen. Statistically, this is going to be much more useful than a ficus,_ and slides it closer. When he’s sure it’s in grabbing range, he edges door open.

"Can I help you?"

The man in front of him jerks round, his face lighting up in a beaming grin, two deep dimples appearing on either side.

"Jensen? Hey, I found you! I mean, I knew where you were, but still... I can't believe how big you got! I've really missed you," he adds, and then steps forward to haul Jensen up into a hug.

Jensen returns it instinctively, distantly aware of hard, firm muscles pressed against his own, and a smell that's weirdly familiar and completely strange all at once. He's searching his memories when his brain finally catches up with his indiscriminate limbs and he reaches out to grab the stranger's upper arms—which is like hanging on to two tree trunks—and pushes him away. He's only managed to put a few inches of space between them, because his new best friend doesn't seem too enthused on letting him go, but it's at least enough to allow him to examine the face in front of him.

It definitely isn't someone he's ever seen before, but, just like with the smell, he's oddly familiar. Maybe he's a relative of someone Jensen knows. A family friend or something, or someone who just has very odd ideas about boundaries. Except the other man is talking, and acting, as if they’re old friends.

"Dude, I'm sorry, but do I know you?" Jensen asks, trying to wrestle a few extra inches of space; he might as well be trying to increase the size of his apartment by pushing on the walls.

"What?" The guy laughs, and then stills when Jensen doesn't join it. "Jensen, it's me! Am I late? I mean, _obviously_ I’m late, but those are your rules―well, not _yours_ , but, god, it’s been so hard, was it hard for you, too?" He’s picking up speed, the words tumbling into each other, and Jensen blinks over at him dazedly. "Oh! I’m so stupid!" the other man suddenly says, releasing Jensen finally to bring an open palm up to his forehead. Underneath the broad hand, his tip tilted eyes are wide, blue-green merging into stormy gray as he berates himself. "You never saw me like this!"

Jensen feels something slick and scary settle in his stomach, a fast growing dread that's oozing along his spine and down into his veins, because he recognizes those eyes. He recognizes that _voice._

"Jared?" he asks hoarsely, the name sticking in his throat.

"Yes! It's me!" Jared says, delighted, reaching out to grab for him again. "I knew you'd recognize―"

"No, I don't, that isn’t― Just, don't touch me!" he says sharply, and backs hurriedly out of reach. "I say a name, and you just say yes? Screw that, I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know you. You should leave." Jensen needs to call his therapist. He wonders a little hysterically if he'll be able to convince the receptionist to book an appointment for a twenty eight year old man. He wonders whether he can find anywhere online that's willing to deliver fire extinguishers in bulk. 

"Jensen, what's wrong?" Jared (not Jared) asks, his forehead wrinkled in concern. 

"Did Josh send you?" Jensen demands. He pretty sure Josh wouldn't pull such a shitty trick, pretty sure even after all these years that Josh wouldn't think this was anywhere near funny, but he's grasping at straws. No one knows what happened that night, what Jensen _thought_ happened that night except for his family and his therapist. And even they don't know everything. Josh was the only one he confided the whole story to, and the fact that he didn't immediately blab it to everyone or look at Jensen forever afterward like the crazy person that he was had basically earned him Jensen's everlasting gratitude. He hates to doubt him now, but who else even knew Jared's name? Jensen sure as hell as never admitted it.

"No one sent me," Jared says slowly. "It's been twenty one years, Jensen. Twenty one years today. I told you I'd be back."

Fuck. It has been twenty one years. Jensen knows that, even though he's spent most of the day pretending he doesn't know today’s the anniversary of the worst day of his life, just like he does every year. 

"I―when did you tell me?" he finds himself asking instead of ordering Jared out of the door, or figuring out if he's flexible enough to wriggle out of a straight jacket.

"In my letters, some of them anyway because it’s harder to be patient when I actually _thought_ about it for too long, but probably all of them lately."

"I didn't get any letters."

Jared shakes his head. "This week?"

"How about ever?"

"What? That isn’t—I've been sending them for years, Jensen. They can’t have all got lost. In fact," he says, voice strengthening, "My mother took personal responsibility for them; I don’t think any of them could have gotten lost." He shakes his head again, dismissive this time, fondness and indulgence for Jensen’s obviously ridiculous claim clear in his expression. 

Jensen realizes he's standing slumped slightly against the wall, legs feeling a little too shaky for him to trust to take care of themselves right then. Jared is edging closer, little shuffling steps bringing him almost back in hugging range.

It’s that final realization that has Jensen jolting upright and striding through the apartment to the kitchen area. He reaches into a cupboard and pulls out an unopened bottle of Scotch, a gift from a happy client. He doesn’t drink spirits often, can't ever risk letting his guard down that much.

He glances behind him. Jared was hot on his heels when he set off, but he's obviously been distracted and is now wandering around his apartment, plucking photos from walls and examining each one intently and generally making himself entirely too much at home. Jensen twists the cap off the bottle and takes a healthy swig. The hit of alcohol is shocking, and he coughs, waits for the burn in his throat to subside before taking another quick gulp, and then grabs a glass to pour a hefty measure into it.

Beginning to feel a little more able to cope now that the numbness of inebriation is settling down to fog his brain, he turns back to Jared who's moved on to his bookcase and is leafing through a thick book on 18th century art.

He places the book quickly back on the shelf when he hears Jensen approaching, and watches him avidly, a happy smile edging at his lips.

"You want anything?" Jensen asks, raises the glass of amber liquid he's holding high and tilting it towards Jared; his mother raised him right―even in the midst of a psychotic break, he's not about to forget his manners.

Jared leans over the glass for a long, unabashed sniff, and then pulls back. "No. Thank you," he adds quickly, and moves forward to herd Jensen towards the huge, squashy couch in front of the TV. 

Jensen hesitates, and then sinks down onto the seat. Shaky legs and large quantities of alcohol don't really mix well. He lowers the glass onto the table in front of him and tries to figure out if he’s actually crazy, and, if he is, when exactly it happened. 

"So, you're Jared," he says. It's not a question, but Jared seems to take it as one. He nods enthusiastically, and then drops down onto the seat beside Jensen, far too close for comfort for two strangers, and turns to face him, leg drawn up and underneath him so there's no awkward angels or comforting distance separating them.

"Yes," Jared adds, as if the violent head movement wasn't answer enough. "It really is me. I’ve travelled from my reality to yours."

Jensen snorts. "Probably best not to talk about reality right now, because I seem to be having an extended break from it."

Jared watches him closely, a worried look in his eyes. "I didn’t realize this would be such a shock to you, Jensen."

Jensen lets out a harsh bark of laughter and reaches over for his drink. "Yeah, guess you could say that," he mutters into his glass. "So, what have you been up to since we last saw each other," he asks politely. Miss. Manners has nothing on him.

"Oh, well," Jared says slowly. "That's a lot of years―"

"No, you're right, we should probably skip it and get to the good stuff―like who the hell are you and what's your angle here?"

"Angle? I don't know what―"

"Okay, how about scam? Do you understand that any better? So, what _scam_ are you trying to pull, and, while we're at it, just how did you even get up here past the security system?"

"Through a portal, but I don’t think... Jensen, it _is_ me," Jared says unhappily. "I'm not trying to trick you―"

"Dude, enough." Jensen lurches to his feet. "I'm not falling for it, so unless you're about to pull something phenomenally convincing out of your ass, you might as well give it up and go―"

Jensen breaks off abruptly: Turns out an actual dragon, eyes wide and apologetic, sitting on the destroyed remains of his previously incredibly comfortable couch is actually phenomenally fucking convincing.

  


Jared is easily persuaded to return to his human form. Which is a very good thing; Jensen's couch is broken beyond repair, and one of the floor to ceiling supporting pillars that separates the living from the working area in his apartment is now resting at a very troubling angle.

"I'm so sorry," Jared says again, wringing his hands together unhappily as they both survey the damage. "The dimensions are so different to last time... I didn’t realize how big I’d be as an adult dragon here."

"It's fine. My fault anyway―I did pretty much push you into it." Jensen sighs and makes his way toward the kitchen, Jared trailing him silently. He pushes out one of the breakfast table chairs, and Jared hesitates before perching down on it, slow and careful as if the chair is made of spun sugar.

Jensen considers the still open bottle of whiskey, and then opens the fridge to pull out two sodas, and places one in front of Jared. Jared lifts it up, examining it curiously, before holding it up to his nose and sniffing it cautiously.

Jared watches him silently, and then reaches over to pull the can away from him when Jared gives it a quick, surreptitious lick. 

"Dude, that is seriously unsanitary; I have no idea where the hell that thing has been before it made it to my fridge." He pulls the tab and returns the open soda to Jared who sniffs it again before tilting his neck back to take a long swallow, and then he sneezes twice in rapid succession. 

"This is delicious!" he says happily, and chugs back the last of the soda. "We don't have this at home," Jared adds, before letting out a loud, extended burp. The ferocity of the sound distracts Jensen from opening his own can, and sends his glance winging up to collide with Jared’s. "Huh," Jared says thoughtfully, and not even a tiny bit embarrassed, "that would make fire balls so much easier." 

Jensen opens his mouth, and then closes it with a snap―he’s really got nothing. Jared is watching him intently now, empty Pepsi can abandoned, and Jensen shifts uncomfortably until he realizes it’s the can in his own hand that has Jared enthralled. Jensen freezes, eyes clashing with Jared whose gaze has turned decidedly jealous.

"Do you want another?" he asks slowly, and hands the can over at Jared's quick nod. "Um, I guess it would be hard to open a ring pull with claws," Jensen says awkwardly, and then bites down hard on his lip when Jared frowns over at him. "I mean, that’s probably why you don’t have them at... home." 

Jensen isn’t sure if it’s crazier to keep fighting the fact he's sitting down for a catch-up session with a dragon who basically screwed up his whole childhood, or to just accept it and concentrate on finding out what the fuck Jared wants.

"Well, yeah, but you know, hands too." Jared holds out his hands as though he's offering Jensen a gift―they’re huge, like the rest of Jared, strong and capable, and Jensen feels an unexpected shiver run down his spine. He twitches unhappily; great now he’s coming down with a cold on top of everything else. 

"So all dragons have two forms?" Jensen asks, pushing aside the vague health concern. "You can just change at will?"

"Yes." Jared carefully places the two empty cans on top of each other and strokes a lean, tanned finger down the side, tracing the writing as he goes. 

Jensen shivers again, but by the time Jared turns his attention back to him, contentment suddenly radiating out of him as he inches his chair closer, Jensen is feeling flushed and hot. _Definitely a cold, maybe even the flu._

"But you didn't when we first met," Jensen reminds, mostly to distract himself. 

"Oh, well, I was just a baby really."

"You got kinda pissy when I pointed it out back then."

Jared looks down, a flush making its way up his face. "Um, yeah, sorry about that, and about the um―" he flaps his hands in front of him.

"Burning down my house?" Jensen adds helpfully. "Taking a chunk out of my ear? Almost getting me packed off to the funny farm?"

Jared opens his mouth and clamps it back down closed a second later. He looks distraught, blinking rapidly. "I wondered if that was why you didn't reply to any of my letters. I mean, I know it was only possible when the portals aligned in your world, but the instructions were clear so when no messages came, I was afraid it was because you were still too angry to forgive me."

"What? I told you, I didn't get any damn letters―no postcards, no phone calls, nothing. I’ve spent the last twenty years trying to convince myself, convince _my family,_ that I wasn’t crazy. I wasn't _mad_ at you, Jared, I thought I _imagined_ you."

"Oh, okay. I’m... glad. Glad that you're not angry, I mean, " Jared says hurriedly. He's darting cautious looks up at Jensen from beneath lowered lashes, and it's clear he still doesn't believe him. There's not much Jensen can think to do to convince him, especially if it means calling Jared's mother's honesty into question, and anyway, he's kind of got bigger problems right now.

"So what prompted this visit?" he asks instead, and Jared sits abruptly upright, a quick growing confusion spreading across his face.

"It's been twenty one years, the human age of consent―I'm here to court you, Jensen."

Jensen can't help it, he laughs, and then immediately feels guilty when Jared's face crumples. "Sorry, I just... twenty one years? Where did you even―you know what, doesn't matter; I just―I was not expecting that."

"Oh." Jared seems relieved. "Some of my terminology is a little outdated, I guess? I've been watching as much of your TV as I could, but portal access is limited even for me. I had to stick mostly to old stuff―less chance of being discovered that way―so I’m not completely up to date. There's still a lot of... resistance in my world to even the thought of integration. Things are getting better," he adds quickly, "but there are still plenty of... dragons who object."

"Wait, you're only twenty one?" Jensen asks, _because, yes, that's the most important part of this conversation._

"Well, in human years, but dragons include our shell years as well."

"Which makes you...?" 

"Twenty five."

"You spent four years as an egg?" Jensen takes in Jared's long length, legs stretched out and only prevented by tangling with Jensen's own by a table leg blocking the way. He can’t image this Jared curled up in such a cramped, confined space, no room to stretch his long limbs for freaking years.

"We mostly sleep, some lessons of course, but a dragon's birth depends on the stars; sometimes it takes them longer to align perfectly than others―my younger sister actually hatched before me."

"Look, Jared," Jensen begins slowly, and Jared hitches eagerly forward. "I'm not sure how to break this to you, so I'm just gonna come right out and say it, okay?" Jared nods, and watches Jensen with utter trust. It makes Jensen feel like crap. "So the whole courting thing? I'm guessing it means the same in dragon as it does in human, and, um, basically that really isn't going to work for me."

"Oh, that's―I know that humans are more forward than dragons in matters of the heart," Jared says, faint color high up on his cheekbones. "But my family will demand at least a short courtship period before―"

"No, that's not what I meant. Jared," he says as gently as he can, "I don't date men.

"I'm not a man."

"Yeah, well I don't date dragons, either."

"But, but, technically we’re _already_ mated, Jensen. I took your blood into me―"

"Wait, that's what that was? Dude, that’s sick! We were just kids! And anyway, you can't go around gnawing on innocent bystanders like that and then announcing you're mated!"

"I know, but I was just a hatching! And I was so _sure_ about you, but then you didn't even believe I was real! I got...frustrated. I shouldn't have bitten you without your consent, I know, but―"

"Okay, don't feel bad, there's no real harm done," Jensen says over him, trying to calm both himself and Jared with a soothing tone. "I release you, or whatever. Now you can head home and find a nice lady dragon, or guy dragon, I'm not judging here, and set up home. No one needs to know about this, but, if anyone asks, just tell them when you found me I was already married. Or dead. Whichever's easier." There's a weird little ache at the idea of Jared finding himself a cute little lady dragon, but Jensen refuses to focus on it―he barely knows Jared, it's just that he's always been a possessive son of a bitch.

"Jensen, we're mated," Jared's frantic voice distracts him from his thoughts, "and the mating wouldn’t have taken if we weren’t meant for each other! I can't just find someone else!"

"Sure you can, humans do it all the time. Trust me," Jensen says, standing, and urging Jared to his feet too. "A year from now, and you'll be sitting in your cave―"

"We don't―"

"―counting your gold―"

"Dragon gold isn't― 

"―and you'll barely be able to remember my name."

"Your name is burned into my soul and mine into yours!"

"Cool," Jensen says, hardening his heart and shepherding Jared toward the door. "Like a drunken tattoo. Everyone gets one at some point, right?"

"Jensen, I don't understand..." Jared trails off to watch Jensen reach around to inch the door open behind him. "You want me to go?"

"I don't mean to be rude, and it's been great catching up, and finding out finally that I'm not actually crazy, obviously, but I'm actually right in the middle of something." He gently guides Jared across the threshold. "But we should definitely grab a beer―some time soon, okay?"

Jared is still shaking his head dumbly, confusion and hurt warring on his face, when Jensen gently closes the door on him.

*~*

When Jensen works up the courage a few hours later to creep back toward the door and glance through the peep hole, Jared is still pretty much where he left him, except he's slumped down now on the floor, his back resting against the wall and his ridiculously long legs stretched out in front of him. Jensen watches, guilt slowly growing, as Jared reaches up to kneed unhappily at the muscles in his neck, possibly where two dark green wings would sprout in his other form, and then settles back down with a sigh. 

Jensen scuttles back to his kitchen and the half empty bottle of scotch. He's got some catching up to do.

  


Hangovers, Jensen decides the following morning, definitely need adding to the list of experiences he never wants to repeat again. All through college he'd been bitter and resentful that he couldn't risk getting regularly drunk off his ass like the rest of his friends. Right now though, he's thinks it's a pretty safe to say that he's been missing out on absolutely nothing.

The excessive quantities of alcohol he'd consumed hadn't made him feel even slightly better at the time. Seven hours on, his mouth tastes like he spent the night licking a homeless man's feet, and his tongue feels at least three sizes too big thanks to the workout. His stomach is filled with a quivering, outraged ball of burning bile and his eyes seem to be clinging to his head by sheer force of will alone.

What he wants to do, is to choke down a handful of the strongest painkillers he can find, crawl back into bed and pull the covers over his head until this passes. Or for sweet, sweet, death to arrive, whichever comes first.

What he's doing instead is tiptoeing across his apartment―he doesn't dare risk putting his full weight down on the hardwood floors; the echo might be just enough to loosen the final strand holding his eyes in his sockets―and peering out through the peep hole.

The hallway is empty.

Jensen lets out a small whimper of relief, and then nearly throws up on himself when a shaggy head pops into view, peering right back at him as though Jensen is clearly visible to Jared in all his hungover, revolting glory. Hell, maybe Jared can see him―he's a dragon for fuck's sake. For all Jensen knows, he has X-ray eyes that can see through metal and melt the bones from under his skin with a single glance. 

Right about now, Jensen would take him up on that offer in a heartbeat.

Jensen slowly turns his back to the door and slumps―gently, very, very gently―against it while he considers his options. He's hungover, not stupid so it isn't long before he's forced to concede there's no point pretending any longer that this isn't happening. Also, if he ever wants to actually leave his apartment again, he doesn't have much choice other than to man up and talk to the dragon who's camped out on his doorstep.

By the time he's finally managed to navigate the excessive, and stupidly loud, locks on his own front door, Jensen is genuinely startled by the realization that there are actually further depths of pain he can descend in to. There is also the very slight possibility that he wouldn't still be on his feet if Jared wasn't holding him up. Jensen isn't exactly sure when that happened, but mostly he's too grateful to care.

"Jensen, are you sick?" Jared asks, having no trouble at all keeping him upright with just one hand curled under his elbow, while he sets the other to the task of patting Jensen down, as though he's searching for broken bones. It's actually fairly pleasant, until Jared moves his attention to Jensen's head, fingers, or possibly claws, pawing at his scalp as if he's trying to gouge chunks out of it.

"Bed," Jensen whimpers mournfully, batting ineffectually at Jared's hand until he drops it to Jensen's hip, solid and hot through the layers of fabric. "I need to go to bed."

"Okay," Jared bellows, and then frowns when Jensen's face crumples in pain, eyes squinted shut in an attempt to block the light that's currently attempting to burn out his retinas. "Um, shall I help you?" 

Jensen would know that Jared is a dragon now, even if he hadn't seen it for himself; his roar is so loud, he could hardly be anything else.

"That would be―nice," he whispers in the fruitless hope Jared will pick up on it and follow his lead.

The return journey across his apartment seems to take much longer, and is worsened by the, loud, running commentary Jared keeps up. Jensen doesn't respond, but he's not entirely sure Jared even notices. 

Days, possibly weeks, pass, until finally, more by luck than judgement―because Jensen has played no part in guiding Jared in the right direction―they stagger into the blessedly cool darkness of Jensen's room. Jared pauses on the threshold, and then navigates Jensen the last few painful feet to the sanctuary that is his bed.

"Will you be okay?" Jared asks, and thank god, he's got a clue from somewhere, because his voices is soft and soothing, like the distant rumble of the ocean.

"Mmph," Jensen grunts, and buries his head in soft downy heaven of his pillow. Jared gently frees the bedsheets from under him, and tucks them carefully back into place over him, wiping a tender finger across the burning hot skin of his brow. It's comforting this time instead of painful, and Jensen drifts into sleep with no clear thought in his head beyond the fact that for a dragon that almost ruined his life, Jared's not so bad after all.

  


Jensen wakes up to the sound of pounding, and this time unlike the last, he's pretty sure it isn't in his head. He levers himself up groggily and takes stock of the situation. He's feeling much better, he's relieved to note, just a distant heaviness in his stomach that might actually be hunger; he can't remember the last time he ate.

He lowers his feet gingerly to the floor, and when no fresh pain is forthcoming, pushes himself out of bed. Staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he looks significantly worse than he feels; crazy bed hair, bloodshot eyes, and a face gray and shiny with old sweat. He considers a shower, but settles instead for brushing his teeth vigorously and splashing his face with scalding water. 

When he's done, he takes a moment to re-examine himself and attempts to tame his hair by running wet fingers through it, before he quickly he gives up with a shrug. He's probably not going to look any better without another few hours of sleep and and a significantly more thorough attempt at cleaning himself.

Outside of his bedroom, the softer light tells him it's probably early afternoon, and the even softer mutter of conversation tells him he has a guest. Another guest. _Crap, what now? A Griffin riding a unicorn?_

Jensen hurries through the apartment and pulls up short when he reaches the kitchen. Jared is standing in the middle of the room, face tight with anger, glaring down at a much smaller man. He has long hair pulled back roughly and tied with what looks like a leather thong, and a few days growth of beard on his face. For all the fact that Jared outweighs him by at a good fifty pounds, the smaller man looks dangerous, and Jensen feels his spine stiffen. 

"Jared? You okay?" he asks, keeping his voice light, but pulling himself up to his full height. He heads over to stand next to Jared, shoulder to shoulder even with the few inches difference between them.

"Yes, sorry, I hope it's okay; this is Chris, he's my um, my bodyguard," Jared says in a rush.

Jensen frowns. _A bodyguard?_ Why the hell would Jared need a bodyguard?

"This is the human?" Chris asks, taking Jensen in with cold, dark eyes. His lips curl in distaste. "I expected more."

"Hey!" Jensen says at the same time as Jared growls, low and warning, "Christian, that's enough."

Christian holds his hands up in the air, but doesn't seem otherwise apologetic. "You need to check in," he directs toward Jared. 

"What? Why can't you do it?" Jared whines, suddenly sounding like the sullen teenager that he doesn't resemble in the slightest.

"Because you know exactly how well that would go down. Go let them know you've arrived safely. I'll report in later, confirm what you've said; hopefully that should buy you a few weeks. But, Jared, no promises; you're the one that's going to have to sell this or it won't work."

Jared lets out a soft huff of frustrated air and then turns to face Jensen. "Um, I need to do this," he says, scowl etched on his face. "Is there somewhere more... private I could go?"

Jensen nods off toward the opposite side of the apartment. "You can use my studio, it's the best I can offer, sorry, unless you want to head back out to the hall?" Loft living meant lots of open spaces and not huge amount of privacy, but Jensen's work area is separate to his living area, and should give Jared whatever solitude he needs. 

Jared looks toward the front door and shakes his head quickly, obviously not willing to risk banishment again. "No, your studio is fine, perfect." He glances between Jensen and Christian and frowns. "You'll be okay here?"

Jensen isn't entirely sure which of them the question is directed at, but he and Christian nod at basically the same time. The other man―dragon―, has a very satisfied expression on his face that seems to give Jared pause, but eventually he squares his shoulders and makes his way over to the studio. He looks behind him as he rounds the corner. Jensen lifts his right hands in a reassuring wave, and Jared grins weakly back.

As soon as Jared is out of sight, Christian rounds on him, brows lowered and expression grim. He looks even more threatening than Jensen had first thought, if that was possible. 

"Okay, human, I don't know what you're planning here with all your cross-species... _perversion,_ but Jared is under my protection, and one wrong move and I will rip out your spleen and feed it back to you. Raw."

"As opposed to what?" Jensen barks back. "Lightly sauteing it in a nice herb butter with some seasonal vegetables? Cause I gotta be honest, not really making it worse." Christian takes a lunging step toward him, and Jensen assures himself he doesn't flinch away even a little bit. "Alright then," Jensen says, gloves definitely off, and very slightly non-plussed. "I have no clue what your twisted little lizard brain thinks is about to happen, but I have no intention of putting any kind of move on Jared, wrong or otherwise."

Christian watches him, narrow-eyed, and Jensen holds up his hands. "Look, I'm not playing you. This is seven kinds of crazy and I'm still kinda doubting my sanity right now, but if all this is real, one thing you can trust me on is that I am not about to deflower your charge." He holds Christian's gaze and after a moment the other man's stiff stance relaxes, puzzlement taking the place of mother hen fury.

"You do know, human, why Jared is here?"

"Okay, can we go with _'Jensen'_ please? Because this is already plenty weird enough without you constantly reminding me that you aren't, that you're―"

"A dragon?"

"God, you had to say it, didn't you?"

Christian grins. In his entirely human-looking mouth, Jensen swears he can see the gleam of a hundred sharp-toothed fangs glinting dangerously. "What?" Christian asks, "You're seriously asking me to believe that you forgot that we existed? Because I was there when the Royal Guard arrived to retrieve Jared, and it seems like the sort of thing that would stick in your memory."

His tone is a little bit kinder than full out mockery, but Jensen's not particularly interested in taking advantageous of the dragon's softening attitude to try and win him over right then. 

"Wait, _Royal Guard?_ What the fuck, are you saying Jared is some sort of _Royal_ dragon? How big is the freaking crown?"

"He's second in line to the throne," Christian says, suspicion back in full force. "That change matters, human?"

"Look, fuck, I told you it's Jensen, and no, it doesn't. I don't care if he's got diamonds and rubies falling out of his ass, it's the fact that I'm not into other dudes' asses that's causing a problem here."

"Jared isn't a _dude_ ," Christian sneers, "he's a dragon,"

"Well, unless dragons come with significant amounts of extra plumbing, that's not gonna work for me either." Jensen sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I just―royalty? Really?"

"I don't know why this is such a big shock to you. You think a courtship usually involves a chaperone―"

"I thought you were a bodyguard!"

"Yes, that too. Look, this visit took almost five years to get agreed, and in the end the only reason Jared was allowed to come at all was because he finally threatened to renounce his title and seek asylum in the human world. Jared has sacrificed more than you'll ever know to return to you. That level of devotion all wrapped up in riches beyond anything you humans could hope to imagine would be tempting to even the most honorable of dragons, and that, _Jensen_ " he adds sarcastically, "is something you could never hope to be."

"Hey, screw you!" Jensen spits out. "I've been more than reasonable here―my house got burnt down by your super special Royal Guard and I spent most of my childhood getting side-eyed by my whole family because your stupid retrieval team couldn't hang around an five extra minutes so they didn't think I was crazy! I'm not the bad guy here," he says, forcing himself into a calmer tone. "And I don't want to hurt Jared. Look, as soon as he gets back I'll sit him down and explain it to him. Make him understand that I can't be what he wants." Jensen nods decisively, ignoring the faint curl of something low in his belly that felt crazily like disappointment that Jared would soon be gone as quickly as he came.

Christian lets out a weird, unhappy rumble of sound and sinks down onto a chair. He drums his fingers against the table top distractedly.

"What?" Jensen demands. His head is pounding dully again, and the fact that he's right next to the sadly empty coffee pot is making his craving for the hot, fortifying drink all the worse. He turns his gaze determinedly away and focuses on Christian. "Seriously, I thought you'd be glad."

"Oh, I am," Chris growls, "but the kid won't be, and that kind of fucks up my plans."

Jensen isn't sure he wants to know exactly what Christian's plans involved, but if he's minutes away from getting his ass barbecued, it's probably better he knows. "Which were...?"

"The way I figure it, Jared's in love with the idea of you. I mean, it's romantic, I get it, story book stuff; humans, forbidden love, secret letters, but none of it's _real_. Dragons can't mate with a human, and even if they could, why would they want to? Jared thinks he knows about your world, but that _TV_ he's obsessed with, the contraband books he has smuggled in? It's filled his head with fantasies. He needs a reality check, to spend enough time with you to see for himself just why this could never work."

Jensen is torn between insulted and impressed, because as plans go, it's not half bad. "So you think if Jared hangs out here he'll realize it's not all sunshine and roses in human land?" He pulls out a chair to sit down across from Christian. 

"I'm sure of it," Chris says. "I mean, what's so special about you?"

Jensen considers being offended, and then shrugs it off. "But what about the mated thing? He definitely bit me." His fingers edge up towards his ear, tracing the small nick still visible in the lobe of his ear.

Chris shakes his head dismissively. "Mating bites are for dragons, and you're a human, so it doesn't count, and that's if he even bit you at all; he was only a baby at the time, probably more of a nibble than a bite."

"It was a bite!" Jensen says, stung. "I had to get two stitches!"

"Two stitches? My apologies," Christian says and sketches a small half bow. "I was unaware that humans existed capable of such courage."

"Oh, screw you," Jensen snaps, throwing caution to the wind. 

"See?" Christian shakes his head, lips twisted disparagingly. "Humans. Utterly faithless."

"I wasn't actually _offering_ ―" Jensen snarls.

But Christian waves his protest away. "It's of no matter, I'm not interested."

Jensen stiffens. "Like I said, I wasn't offering. And humans are perfectly capable of being faithful, not that you'd know that, being a dragon," he adds, trying to make the word sound as insulting as Christian does 'human'. 

"Oh, I know," he says, words coated in deep dislike. "Our worlds haven't always been so completely closed off from each other. Long before Jared was hatched, I was assigned to the portal guard. I saw first hand what humans do to dragons, which isn't so surprising considering what you do to each other."

"What, are we talking, like, medieval times or something here? Because we've kind of moved on since then."

"And so have dragons―we have no desire to reopen that connection to find out if you're over your quest to harvest our organs for magic and display our severed heads for vanity." 

Jensen winces, but doesn't protest; it's kind of hard to argue any case where you're on the wrong side of decapitation for wall hangings. He also understands a little better now why it took five freaking years to get a royal visit approved. 

"Okay, no arguments here, but you guys seriously need to update your knowledge―even that whole age of consent thing is way out of date."

"You're complaining that there was a delay in meeting your mate?" 

"Yes. No, not really." Jensen frowns. "I'm just saying if you're getting even those kind of basic details wrong..."

"What is this, human? Have you changed your mind?" Christian asks, slowly straightening in his chair, a very definite aura of danger emanating from him. "Because if you're thinking about―"

"I'm not!" Jensen holds out his hands, and Christian subsides back into his seat. "That isn't―it's just, I guess no one wants to look like they come from a race of dicks, you know? That isn't us, or at least, not most of us."

Christian tilts his head, gaze fixed firmly on Jensen's for long, silent moments, and then he nods. 

"Maybe not, but that won't be enough to convince Jared's family. They're naturally protective of their subjects, but that's nothing compared to the lengths they'll go to to protect their children. We left your world when it was clear we could never share it. All the known portals were closed and made accessible only to the royal family, but they're still there, just... hidden." 

Christian sighs and then stands up to walk over toward the fridge. He opens the door, leans in and reappears with a bottle of beer, popping the cap effortless off with the ornate ring on his finger. Jensen watches him, open-mouthed as Christian twist his chair round to sit at it backward, folded arms resting on the seat back, and the neck of the bottle dangling casually from his fingers.

"Your world is monitored, Jensen," he says, completely oblivious to Jensen's wide-eyed stare at his sudden transformation. "The scholars aren't ignorant to what goes on here. Jared is no fool, but they've done their best to feed him a whole stable-full of horseshit over the years. With the resources he's had, it's hard for him sometimes to spot the truth from the lies."

"I don't―what are you saying?" Jensen asks, scrabbling to keep up.

Christian shrugs. "I'm saying it's probably for the best that you aren't actually Jared's mate, because if you were, there would be a lot of people invested in keeping the two of you apart."

Jensen swallows past the large knot in his throat. His chair screeches against the wood floor as he pushes himself to his feet and makes for the coffee pot. It's too early for beer, and Jared's surely going to be back soon. He wants this conversation over before then. 

"So, to recap, the plan is I let Jared hang out with me 'till he realizes what a crappy mate I'd be and takes off home?" Jensen's stomach roils as the usually awesome smell of the fresh coffee brewing begins to fill the room. "And you do what? Hang around watching?"

"Pretty much, except for the watching part. I've got things to do and I'm betting you can figure out how to lose a dragon in 10 days just fine well without me."

"Movie references? Are you kidding me? What happened to all the 'noble dragons separating themselves from the evil humans crap,' _Chris?_."

"I said, all the known portals were closed. Now the _unknown_ ones are a different matter."

"So after feeding me all that shit about how dragons hate us, it turns out you spend your free time slutting it up in our world?" 

"What can I say? I'm not ready to relocate, but you humans sure do know how to make a burger. Plus, dragons never really got what makes action movies so much damn fun."

Jensen sloshes coffee into his mug with a little more force than necessary, and then curses when it splashes up over the side and burns his wrist. "Okay, fine," he says, turning back to face Chris who's grinning mockingly over at him. "I'm kind of busy right now, but I can spend a few nights showing him the around, take him to see the sights."

"Sure, that'll work, but being around you 24 hours a day will probably have the most effect."

"Twenty four hours a day―" Jensen starts, but Chris is already up and heading for the door. "Hey, wait! What are you―you can't just leave him here!"

"He's your mate, for now, anyway, which means you get to handle this."

"What? No, I told you―"

"And I told you, your problem now." Chris sighs at Jensen's wild eyed panic. "Look, if you need me, Jared will know how to reach me, but I honestly think this has the best chance of working if you haven't got someone breathing down your neck the entire time. You'll be fine, Jensen, Jared is young for a dragon, but he's smart― he'll figure it out before you know it, and then you can go back to forgetting any of this ever happened."

"I didn't _forget_ the first time," Jensen protests, but Chris is too intent on making his escape to listening.

"Good luck," he turns at the door to say, a faint hint of Texas twang slipping into his drawl. Jensen guesses Chris is also partial to a good Western. "And I meant what I said―I will feed you your spleen if you hurt him."

Jensen clutches at his abdomen protectively. He's not sure what his spleen does, but he's pretty fond of it nonetheless.

  


Twenty minutes later and there's still no sign of Jared. There's also no hint of raised voices or the sound of screeching, mid-air battles, so Jensen assume things aren't going too badly with the phone call―or whatever the dragon equivalent is―home.

Jensen uses the time to swallow back a couple of Advil and drain the coffee pot. He starts a new one brewing, and is just contemplating whether his stomach could handle food, when Jared appears.

"So, how'd it go?" Jensen asks, taking in the pallor under Jared's tan, his hair sticking up weirdly where he'd obviously been dragging his fingers roughly through it, and the weary droop to his shoulders. Jensen drops his gaze, and is briefly distracted by the sheen of sheen of sweat gleaming in the hollow of his collarbone. He closes the jaw he hadn't realised was hanging open with a soft snap, relieved that Jared doesn't seem to have spotted anything amiss. Not that there's anything amiss for him _to_ spot.

Jared shuffles over to the table and drops bonelessly onto a chair. "It was...okay. They worry about me," he says. "It's hard for them to accept this is where―" Jared breaks off, a briefly devastated expression washing over his face, before he pulls himself quickly back under control. 

Jensen tactfully pretends he hasn't notice or that he knows he's the cause, and pushes a cup of coffee across the table. Jared picks it up distractedly and takes a sip. His whole face scrunches in distaste, and he directs a betrayed look at the cup, and then swings it back up toward Jensen. 

Jensen, purses his lips, and stands to pull a sugar bowl out of the cupboard, and the milk from the fridge, placing them both on the table in front of him. Jared eyes them suspiciously and then lifts the lid off the sugar bowl, poking cautiously at the contents with the tip of his finger, before pulling out one of the cubes. 

Jensen takes his coffee black and unsweetened, as God intended, and only keeps the bowl filled and ready for occasional, _very_ occasional, guests. Unfortunately, it looks like it's gotten damp somewhere along the way, because about six cubes of sugar come out stuck together in a lump. Jared studies them curiously, lifting them to his nose to sniff, and then gives them a quick lick before happily cramming the whole lot into his mouth at once.

"Hey, no, those are for the coffee!"

Jared's enthusiastic crunching pauses and he frowns, mid-chew. Mouth still carefully half open he reaches for his abandoned cup and steels himself for a second before swallowing back the steaming contents in two deep swallows.

Jensen jumps to his feet, his own mouth and tongue tingling painfully in sympathy and shoves the cold milk carton toward Jared. "Jesus, Jared―quick, drink this!"

Jared shrugs, and lifts the carton to his mouth, draining the contents easily. He looks up at Jensen when he's finished, an expectant expression on his face, and a milk mustache on his upper lip.

"Um," Jensen says, brain finally catching up with his unexpectedly protective urge that had swamped him when he thought Jared was hurt, leaving him feeling spectacularly dumb. He reaches over to take the empty carton from Jared's grip, and hands him a napkin instead. "I guess with the whole dragon, fire breathing thing you've got going on, scalding beverages not really much of an issue."

Jared shrugs. "Not really." He's examining the napkin curiously. 

When he lifts it to his nose and sniffs at it, Jensen reaches hurriedly over to take it back from him before he can progress down his usual path of licking and then eating. 

"Here," he says, and dabs at Jared's lips, carefully removing all traces of milk. Jared's eyelids drop closed, and he pushes up into the touch, a deep rumble starting up somewhere in his chest as he nuzzles at Jensen's palm like a cat. Jensen snatches his hand back, crumpling the napkin as his fingers spasm around it. 

"So," he says, as Jared's eyes spring open to focus on him, heat and longing obvious in his gaze. "I―okay, well on the positive side, at least we know now that coffee's probably not the drink for you," he says, his voice loud in the silence.

Jared blinks, and sits up straight on his chair. "That was coffee?" He frowns. "I brought money," he says, reaching into his jeans pocket and dragging out a scrunched wad of notes, coins falling out behind them and clattering to the floor. "So we could get coffee. I noticed human mating rituals often begin with coffee buying so I thought..."

He trails off when Jensen jumps to his feet and busies himself rinsing out the empty milk carton before throwing it in the trash, and then grabs at a dishcloth to wipe at the splatters on the faucet. When he finally runs out of pointless tasks and has to turn back toward the table, it's to find Jared staring deeply into the sugar bowl, fingers pushing at the contents desultorily, an unhappy frown on his face. Jensen reaches over to drop the lid firmly back into place, and Jared neatly pulls his fingers free just in time, a lone sugar cube gripped between his middle fingers.

Jared, locks his gaze with Jensen's, lifts the sugar cube up to his mouth, and bites down defiantly, the sound of loud crunching filling the air.

Jensen gnaws on his bottom lip. He'd hoped to put this conversation off until he was feeling a little more able to handle it, but that's obviously not an option.

"Look, Jared," he starts, and Jared watches him, eyes hopeful. "What I said yesterday, about me not dating guys? I'm not trying to be a dick here, but you need to understand that that's just not gonna change. I―you and me? We can get coffee, but we can't ever _get_ coffee. Do you understand what that means, what I'm saying?"

Jared watches him silently, swirling gaze roving over his face. Jensen twitches uncomfortably, but forces himself to hold his gaze until Jared finally nods. "Are you sure? Maybe, in time..."

"I―" Jensen struggles to get his mouth to form the agreement his brain is screaming at him, and eventually has to settle on a nod of his own that seems to finally free his trapped voice. "No," he says hoarsely. "I know that's not what you want to hear, and I'm sorry, but I'm sure."

Jared breathes in sharply, nostrils flared. "Are you asking me to go?"

Jensen shakes his head quickly. "No! I mean, you came all this way. You could stick around for a while, see the human world. Unless you want to go?" He suddenly remembers Chris's plan and curses himself silently for suggesting the option―what if Jared says yes?

Thankfully, there's no time to panic about what punishment Chris might send crashing down on him, because Jared immediately shakes his head, a beaming grin tilting his lips. "No, I'd like that, thank you."

Jensen hesitates uncertainly. "And you're okay about the whole...?" He lifts his hands and makes a nonsensical swirling movement.

"I think so." Jared nods not looking particularly distraught, and Jensen fights back a feeling of mild affront. 

"Okay, that's good. Very good," he adds firmly and Jared nods happily again. "Okay, so I guess I should show you to your room, let you get settled in?"

"Thanks!" Jared says, and gets up "Hey, Jensen, did you know, that coffee is your world's most traded commodity next to petroleum, but tea is actually the most consumed beverage worldwide? I didn't really like the coffee," he adds apologetically, "but maybe we could get tea some time?" He taps at his pocket, the crinkle of notes audible.

Jensen stumbles to a halt, but Jared is already pushing open the door to his room, exclaiming happily over the sight of a TV.

  


As house guests go, Jensen is quickly happy to discover that Jared is basically maintenance free. That isn't to say he doesn't have a few idiosyncrasies that take a little getting used to.

First off, he doesn't sleep much, which is kind of a pain in the ass, because no matter how early Jensen wakes (which truthfully is never all that early), or how late he stays up, Jared is always there. The odd hours he keeps probably wouldn't be an issue at all, if one of Jared's other little habits wasn't his deep dislike of the clothing he seems to have had provided for him for the trip. Human synthetic materials were _too constricting, too hot, too_ itchy, _Jensen_ , and it was only after lengthy negotiation that they'd managed to agree on shorts that hung too damn low, or sweats that clung too damn tight and various t-shirts that mostly seemed to exist to accentuate Jared's rippling muscles.

Shoes were also a battle, more because Jensen was worried about Jared tearing the hell out of his feet than him having any real objection to seeing Jared's, narrow, tanned feet padding around his hardwood floors. The issue was easily resolved when Jared discovered flip-flops and joyously bought dozens of pairs, which he happily abandoned around the apartment whenever the urge took him. 

The other, larger, problem was Jared's seeming mission to experience everything human and drive Jensen crazy in the process.

 

"Jared, what do you think about―oh, hey," Jensen says, nonplussed by the two oddly dressed guys sitting on his couch.

"Jensen, you're back!" Jared says happily, bustling into the room. He's wearing jeans today, thank god, because frankly the shorts and sweats aren't really fit for company unless that company happens to be blind or eighty years old.

"I was only gone for a couple of hours," Jensen says, attention mostly centered on the two strangers who are eyeing him equally suspiciously back. The taller guy reaches down to pull a ratty backpack onto the couch next to him, arm wrapped securely around the handle that's only hanging on by a few loose threads. Jensen raises an eyebrow, and the guy pulls the backpack a little closer still.

"Guys this is Jensen," Jared says placing a tray of tea and sandwiches and tiny little cakes on the coffee table in front of the new comers. They both take one look at the tea, and then direct their attention to the sandwiches, splitting the plate between them and piling their own half on spread out napkins. "Sid, Pauly, this is Jensen, my... friend. This is his apartment," he adds, when the introductions only gets him two half-hearted grunts of acknowledgement.

"Good to meet you," Jensen says, and grabs Jared by the elbow. "Can you excuse us for just a second?" he asks, already propelling Jared toward the kitchen. Sid ignore him, but Pauly waves them carelessly away without lifting his eyes from his food. 

"Dude, what the hell?" Jensen demands the second they're out of earshot. "Who are those guys?"

Jared stares back at him, eyes dark and hot, and it's only then Jensen realizes just how close they are. He's got Jared wedged up in the gap between the sink and the counter top, the toe of his sneakers pressed up against Jared's inner ankle and their hips tilted and way too close to touching. 

Jensen takes a quick step backward, and then another when Jared follows. "Jay," he says warningly. His voice comes out low and deep without his permission, and Jared shivers, hands fluttering in front of him as if he's considering grabbing Jensen and pulling him back in close. 

Jensen lifts his hand, snaps his fingers hurried in Jared's face, not quite trusting his own voice yet. "You with me, Jared? Focus," he orders, and whether he's talking to Jared or himself at this point, he's not completely sure.

"Um," Jared says distractedly. "Sid and Pauly―"

"No," Jensen says, and frowns when he spies the newly opened package of cubes on the kitchen counter, roughly half the contents already gone. Jared must have been out again for what he happily terms 'grocery shopping', but mostly involves him buying sugar to refill the sugar bowl for tea that no one in their right mind wanted. Of course, as no one is drinking the tea, and Jensen doesn't take sugar in his coffee, Jared's finding it increasingly difficult to come up with excuses for the amount of sugar he's buying. Jensen guesses he's up to roughly two packs a day by this point. 

He picks up the box of sugar cubes and closes it with a meaningful glance, before turning to place it back on the top shelf of a cupboard, as if there's anywhere he's got the reach on Jared. Out of the corner of his eye, Jensen watches as Jared carefully tracks the new location and then pretends disinterest when Jensen swings back round to catch him at it. 

He sighs in defeat―the next time he sees the package it will be empty and in the trash―and returns to the problem at hand. "That's the one thing I do know, how about what I _don't_ know?"

"Oh. Right. Right!" Jared says, snapping back to the conversation. His shoulders immediately hunch up in what Jensen recognizes as guilt. "So you remember how we talked about how dragons don't keep pets, and how it would be cool to maybe get one―"

"No. Was this another one of your middle of the night chats, Jay? Because I've told you already, I'm not particularly lucid during those what with the late hours lately and all the sleep deprivation."

"I always check you're awake first!" Jared hotly defends.

"I'm awake 'cause it's hard to sleep through someone sneaking across your bedroom floor in size a billion flip flops, doesn't mean I'm up for a forty minute discussion on the historical inaccuracies in Merlin―which, by the way, is a TV show and not a documentary―and how completely obvious it is that Arthur is in love with Merlin and not Gwen."

"You said you agreed with me! And dragons aren't sneaky, they're _stealthy,_ " Jared pronounces loftily.

"Don't care, Jay, just wanna know who the guys are sitting on my sofa eating my food."

"Okay, so we were watching the dog training show, and I said―"

"Oh, my god, is this about your crush on that Dog Whispering dude?"

"No, and I told you, I don't have a crush on him; how could I when you're my―" Jared breaks off, a stricken expression on his face

Jensen freezes. They haven't talked about this, not since that first night, which is kind of weird, but also kind of not, because whatever Jared thought, and apparently still thinks, they are, the one thing Jensen's pretty sure they can both agree on is that they're friends. Fastest damn friend Jensen ever made, and maybe it isn't really a good enough excuse, but he hasn't wanted to risk that by bringing up any awkward subjects. 

And if he has been hiding his head in the sand, then Jared's made it easy. For the most, he's acted like he's some sort of foreign exchange student, content to soak up the local atmosphere and happily enjoy whatever new experience he stumbles upon. He certainly hasn't been acting like his heart is broken. Sure there's been more than a few tense moments when Jared sat a little too close, stared a little too long, but they'd passed, just like the weird little squirm of... something Jensen got in his stomach each time.

The idea that Jared has been biding his time, or worse, hiding his pain, is something Jensen isn't up to facing right then. Luckily Jared apparently feels the same. 

"So, yes," Jared says, voice overly casual, and Jensen slumps in relief, "we were watching the show with the dogs and you said you always wanted one when you were a kid, and when I told you dragons don't have pets, you said it was a damn shame."

Jensen waits for the part of the story that will explain who the hell Sid and Pauly are, and how any of this relates to a television programme about a weird dog trainer guy who doesn't seem to like dogs all that much, and then waits some more. 

"Um, Jay, what happened next?"

"Well, while I was out getting groceries," Jensen snorts, and Jared ignores him, "I saw a flyer for an animal shelter that was having a fundraising day, and I thought it would be fun."

" _O_ kay."

"But I couldn't find it, so I asked someone for directions, and I'm sure I followed them _exactly_ ," Jensen snorts again, because Jared could get distracted from a nuclear explosion by a bug walking on the sidewalk, "except when I got there it was a homeless shelter, not an animal shelter."

Jensen stiffens, suddenly horribly sure he knows where the story is going.

"They weren't having a fundraising day, but they let me in anyway. Most of the people were friendly, but kind of sad, and, when you think about it, being homeless is actually much worse than just not having an owner―"

"Oh, my god, you didn't―"

"―so I started asking around to see if anyone wanted to come home with me." Jensen makes a small squeaking noise of protest, and Jared hurries on. "Don't worry, I told them I'd have to check with you first, but I wasn't sure I could find my way back again if you said yes, and Pauly and Sid both seemed to really like the idea..."

Jensen shakes his head, glance darting back toward the living area. "They did?"

"Yeah! Well, not Sid so much, and Pauly was kind of reluctant too now I think about it, but we didn't really get chance to talk properly because one of the women who helps run the shelter came and told me it was probably time for me to go; I think they were closing or something."

"Fuck, Jared, you're going to get us arrested for soliciting, and that's if we're lucky! You can't just let strangers into our home like this―we could be robbed or murdered, probably both!"

Jared ducks his head, and sneaks a glace at Jensen through the hair falling over his eyes. Instead of the shame mixed with embarrassment Jensen was already feeling guilty about causing him, Jared looks weirdly happy. "Our home?" he says, pushing his hair impatiently back off his face.

 _Oh, shit._ Jensen breathes in through his nose, heart abruptly thundering in his chest. "That―I just meant. Slip of the tongue," he finally settles on. "I guess, I 'm kind of getting used to having you around."

"Oh." Jared pauses uncertainly, and then smiles, happiness dimmed a little, but still there. "Me too. And, you don't have to worry; I would never let you get murdered or robbed." He says it with such utter certainty, Jensen can't help but be reassured. "I could snap Pauly _and_ Sid in half before they even thought of raising a hand in anger toward you."

From behind them, there's the sound of crockery smashing, and they both jerk round to see Pauly frozen in place, empty tea tray hanging limply from his fingers and the scattered remains of Jared's tea service lying destroyed on the floor around him.

Jared makes a small, distressed sound, and the other man hurries into speech.

"I just want to take this opportunity to say that I have absolutely no hand raising plans, angry or otherwise," Pauly says nervously into the tense silence. "And I will gladly fight right beside, or maybe very slightly behind you, if anyone else does―you just say the word, man, and I'm there."

"I don't really need any help protecting Jensen, but thank you for the offer, Pauly," Jared says, most of his attention focused still on the broken pieces of china, his forehead creased in an unhappy frown. 

"Um, sorry, you know, about the, ah, mess―I could mend it, if you wanted? It's just a chip really," Pauly assures, scrabbling through the rubble and emerging triumphant with a lone handle, all that remains of the huge, and disgusting, rose patterned teapot Jared had happily transported home last week.

"No," Jared says. "It's beyond repair." He lets out a heavy sigh and sinks with infinite sadness down onto a chair at the table. 

Jensen rolls his eyes at the overdone, but genuine, devastation on Jared's face―he's ridiculously protective of his possessions―and lays a comforting hand on Jared's drooping shoulder. Jared immediately pushes up into the touch.

"It's okay, Jay," Jensen says, struggling to ignore the way Jared is tilting his whole body to bring them as close together as possible. "I'll buy you a new one."

"You will?" Jared asks, eyes shining, but his words are mostly drowned out by the noise of heavy boots clomping across the apartment.

"Hey, what's happening?" Sid asks spotting them. "I thought you were going to try and score some more of those little cakes?"

"Shut up, shut up!" Pauly hisses, and grabs Sid's elbow. "Thank you for the food, but we have to go now," he says, gaze focused on a spot roughly at Jared's shoulder height. 

"What? We do? But what about―" Sid is still grumbling about the lack of extra tiny cakes as Pauly drags him forcefully backward toward the door, his eyes flickering constantly to Jared. 

Jared watches their hurried exit, a bemused expression on his face. "Did I do something wrong?"

Jensen pats his shoulder consolingly. "No, you did great. I'll just go and um, see them out." Jared makes to stand, and Jensen pushes him back down into the chair. He reaches into the cupboard to pull out the pack of sugar cubes and drops them enticingly down on the table in front of him. Jared stares at them hungrily. "You could make some tea while I'm doing that," he adds, feeling guilty about feeding Jared's habit. 

He'll make it up to him later, after he's convinced Sid and Pauly not to call the cops.

  


"Hey," Jared says.

Jensen looks up from where he'd been slumped contentedly on the couch while he waited for Jared to return from his weekly check-in with home, stomach still pleasantly full from the meal Jared had prepared. Jared's obsession with TV had continued and expanded into cooking shows, mostly to Jensen's great delight. His dragon's tooth, however, was decidedly sweet, rendering some of the deserts he made almost inedible, but Jensen was more than happy with the ratio of good to bad, especially considering his own lack of skill; there's a reason he's lived on takeout most of his adult life.

He's been starting to worry the unhealthy amount of sweet foods Jared has been consuming would have a detrimental affect on his health, but, if anything, Jared is looking better than when he first arrived, long, lean lines toned and fit from all the exercise he got exploring the city while Jensen worked. When he'd taken to tying his hair back with a elastic band, Jensen had taken him to get it cut, and now his hair is soft and styled so it fell stupidly perfectly around his face. 

Right now though, Jared doesn't look healthy _or_ happy. His expression is glum, and his body is slumped in lines of unhappiness when he sinks down onto the couch beside Jensen, slightly too close as always.

"Hey," Jensen responds, and then turns to nudge Jared with his shoulder when he sits staring into the blank TV screen, his eyes distant and inward looking. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Jared says, and then nods more forcefully. "I'm fine, just, you know, family stuff."

 _Family stuff._ Jared's calls home never go well as far as Jensen can tell, but lately he's seemed even more stressed out after them than usual.

"They must be missing you?" he tries.

"I don't think that's really the problem," Jared says, an unusually cynical tone in his voice. 

Jensen blinks and sits up a little straighter, and seeing his concern Jared waves a hand toward him.

"Ignore me. I'm just―I keep waiting for them to come round," he says, lips tight and the knuckles on the hand gripping the cushion in his lap white. "And it isn't ever going to happen, I know that, but I keep waiting and I keep being disappointed, every time, like it's something new. I don't know why I keep hoping, it's just―it's stupid."

"Jay―"

"But there are books," Jared says abruptly, "in the Royal Library, not many now, but enough with stories from the times when our worlds were still joined; dragons who mated with humans, raised families, lived their lives together. My mother says they're just myths, that humans are fickle, faithless creatures who care about nothing but war and greed and propagating their species."

"Jared, I'm not sure―"

"I know," Jared says quickly, gaze imploring, "this isn't about us, not really, I just want you to understand, to explain―"

"Okay, sorry, go on."

Jared studies him closely, and then nods, his breath leaving him on a heavy sigh. "The history books though, Jensen, they tell the same stories, less fanciful, less romance, but basically the same. I just, it's there, in black and white; King Rasmussen and Queen Cwenhild ruled together for over a hundred years and now dragonlings are taught that she was a sorceress who mesmerised the King by stealing half of his heart!" 

"Wait, you guys live that long?"

Jared nods. "Some do. Mateless dragons probably only have the lifespan of a human―being alone isn't good for us." 

Jensen swallows hard, pushing away the guilt for another thing he isn't quite ready to face. "But what if something happens to a mate, you know, if they... die, or something?" he asks "Do they―can dragons mate more than once?" 

"Some do." Jared smiles sadly, and Jensen's stomach twists. "But that wasn't the point; since the portals were sealed, the only knowledge most dragons have about humans is what they're taught in school, and most of it's wrong and the rest is lies. I've spent most of my life trying to teach people the truth, but for most dragons, humans are basically irrelevant because it's not like they're ever going to meet one."

"Huh, so you're like an activist in your world?" It's pretty cool as long as Jensen doesn't let himself think too hard about the reasons behind Jared's passion to improve human-dragon relations.

"Um, you could call it that, but kind of more like crazy Prince Jared," Jared confesses ruefully. 

Jensen waits for the sting that usually accompanies mention of the word, but discovering that he'd been the sane one all along seems to have purged a lot of the poison from the old wounds. 

"I'll take it though over the plans my family had for me."

"You said you were the second, son, right, so I assume it was never going to be King Jared?"

"Nope," Jared says cheerfully, "my family intended for me to enter the church."

"What happened?" Jensen asks frozen, because if Jared gave up his fucking vocation for him... 

"Nothing, when I came of age I refused, and they couldn't really argue; dragons believe our fates are decided by the stars, and I was hatched accidentally long before when my timeline should have fallen. If they tried then to force me when there was no calling, it would bring our whole belief system into question, and they couldn't risk that."

"So you got to do whatever you wanted? I bet that went down well with your family."

Jared shrugs. "My brother and sister were angry for a long time for what they saw as me shirking my duties. My brother still resents me a little, I think, but I was a dragon born without a destiny―what else could they do?"

Jensen nods, and takes a long swallow of the beer in his hand, and then grimaces when he realizes it's long since gone flat, and everything is warm before long in Jared's proximity. He raises the bottle in question, and at Jared's nod, heads to the kitchen to bring them both fresh cold ones.

When Jensen sits back down, Jared's back to staring pensively off into the distance. "I don't want it to sound like my family don't care about me," he says suddenly. "Or that my world is a terrible place, it's just that it's so hard to bring about any kind of change, and it feels sometimes like I've spent my whole life fighting..."

"I'm sorry," Jensen says into the silence, and Jared swings round to face him, surprise on his face.

"For what? None of this is your fault, Jen."

"Not intentionally, but if you'd never met me―"

Jared shakes his head firmly, and twists on the couch, right knee butting up against Jensen's thigh, until all Jensen can think about is the unnatural heat radiating from it, that Jared is a fucking _dragon_ , and as human as he looks right now, underneath he's a mythical creature; claws and scales and fangs, and also, as far as Jared is concerned, his mate.

"Not your fault," Jared says firmly. "I don't want you to blame yourself for anything." Jensen frowns, and Jared sighs. "Do you know how I got here? About the portals between our world?"

"Yeah, Chris told me, said they've all been closed?"

"Technically they're restricted now to the royal bloodline, but for new hatchlings the ability is blocked until they come of age."

"So that's why you didn't come before?"

"I couldn't." Jared raises the bottle to his lips and swallows. 

Jensen watches the long line of his neck as he tips his head back, tanned and skin gleaming with the ever present soft sheen that he guesses is something to do with the dragon heat simmering inside of him. Jensen looks hurriedly away when Jared lowers the bottle. 

"I was able to create viewing portals," Jared says, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, "but they were restricted and heavily monitored, less so if it they were pointed toward the past, but still always monitored."

"Did you ever look in on me?" Jensen asks curiously.

"Once," Jared says without inflection. "Just once."

Jensen frowns, not sure he wants to know, but there's no chance to ask anyway before Jared's continuing his story. "While I was in my shell though, my blood still had the ability to create and travel through the portals; in my unhatched state I was like a... master key to the whole human dimension."

"Wait, are you saying someone _stole_ you? Jesus, didn't they have guards to prevent that kind of the thing?" 

"It had never happened before; I told you, most dragons aren't interested in the human world. They know it's there, but beyond that, they don't really care."

"Well, someone obviously did. Anything could have happened to you! Anything _did_ happen to you thanks to Chad! You were an _egg_ for fuck's sake!"

"Hey, I told you, dragons are _warriors_ ―I could have totally taken on The Chad, even six inches long and trapped inside my own shell."

Jensen can't share the joke; Jared had been so tiny back then, almost impossible to believe now how tiny, and thanks to Jensen's carelessness, he'd come close to being boiled alive.

"Seriously, Jensen, I was fine; dragon eggs aren't that easy to break, and I was telling you this story to make you feel less guilty, not more."

"Did they find him?" Jared stares blankly back and Jensen waves his hand impatiently. "The guy who stole you?"

"Um, no, I don't think so. He was probably just a trader who got greedy; it's a small market but human goods can be worth a lot to the right buyer." He grins. "I probably brought stuff from him myself when I was older."

"I hope he gave you a huge fucking discount," Jensen mutters, and Jared laughs.

"I doubt it, but see, not your fault that I ended up in your world, and not your fault that you found me―I called out to you, attracted your attention. If I hadn't done that the guards would have just followed my trail and brought me home, and no one would ever have known I'd been there."

"I didn't hear you," Jensen protests, "I just saw your egg glowing."

"That was me. I felt you as soon as we arrived, most likely before that even―it's probably not a coincidence that the portal I opened brought me right to you," he explains when Jensen stares at him, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, because of the―" Jensen's hands flutter awkwardly. "Um, the mate thing." 

"Yes," Jared says, "and, most important of all, it wasn't your fault that I bit you."

"Why did you?" Jensen asks into the pause.

"I told you, I was just a hatching―"

"No, that isn't―I meant, what does it mean, exactly, having a mate? To a dragon."

Jared straightens up, and adjusts his position on the couch until he's completely turned toward Jensen, one leg tucked up underneath him and the other bracketing Jensen's foot on the floor. "It's hard to explain," he begins cautiously. "It's sort of like having someone else inside your head with you. Not their thoughts," he adds quickly when Jensen's eyes widen in alarm, "more like their emotions, all curled up and melded with your own. At first, when the bond is new, it's hard to separate them out, to know who the emotions belong to, but then later, it's easy, like a touch you'd recognise even in the dark."

"I don't―I've never felt that," Jensen says. He doesn't want to come right out and say it; _Guess, your family were right, humans and dragons can't be mated,_ but from the expression on Jared's face, he probably doesn't need to.

"I know," Jared says, gaze dropping from Jensen's, and then he gets to his feet, picks up his empty bottle from the table and leaves the room.

  


"God, I'm sorry," Jensen says during the brief pause in the sounds of extremely energetic sex. "I didn't realise―"

"It's fine," Jared says. His voice cracks and he clears his throat loudly. He's sitting too close to Jensen, as usual, breathing a little heavy, even though he's clearly trying―mostly unsuccessfully―to regulate it into something more normal sounding. 

Jensen is very carefully avoiding eye contact, gaze fixed firmly on the TV screen in front of them, but considering the movie playing is the cause of the current discomfort, it's not really working that well as a distraction.

"I didn't realise it would be quite so... graphic," Jensen says, and winces when the moaning starts up again. "I hadn't seen any reviews, but Misha said it was funny―" In his mind, Jensen shakes his fist violently at his absent asshole of a best friend, and then scowls when imaginary Misha laughs in his face.

"It is funny," Jared says quickly. "I liked the part where―" And then the couch shifts as Jared suddenly squirms uncomfortably beside him. "Oh, I don't think that's going to fit, is it?"

The question isn't really aimed at Jensen, but he refocuses on the screen long enough to determine that Jared's right, and no, it really isn't going to fit, not without a hell of a lot of persuasion or possibly some brute force, and he takes the unilateral decision to end their movie night there and then. Jared, as far as he can tell, is pretty innocent about the ways of man _or_ dragon, and Jensen's not feeling particularly good about some unexpectedly adult comedy being his initiation.

Unfortunately, he hits pause instead of stop, and manages to freeze frame on a pretty unfortunate image. Jensen jabs at the remote control desperately, and it shoots out of his grip to land in Jared's lap. He reaches out unthinkingly to grab it, and then pauses, hand resting uncertainly over the bulge in the soft material of Jared's sweats.

Jensen isn't staring, not really, it's just where his hand happens to be, but he's also having real difficulty looking away. The bulge between Jared's thighs is... not unimpressive. Not that he makes a habit of mentally sizing other guy's dicks up, but even with his limited frame of reference, he feels pretty confident in saying Jared's got nothing to be embarrassed about.

Jared shifts again, and Jensen jerks his hand back, and then himself back until he's perched at the end of the couch cushions, eyes wide with horror and teetering precariously on the edge. 

Lately, he's found himself obsessing more and more on weird little details about Jared; his wide mouth, pink lips and cute little mole high up and just over from his nose. The huge hands and strong arms that would have no difficult pinning...someone to whichever hard, or soft, surface took his fancy. The expanse of his back tapering down into long, slim thighs and a taut, muscled ass that would be firm to the touch, but would give perfectly to fingers massaging deep the tense muscles, or maybe just hang on tight while Jared works himself deeper into the shivering body beneath him, sweat pooling at his hairline while he growls low in his throat his mate's name―

Jensen shudders and shakes his head, desperate to gain some control of his wayward thoughts. The room is silent apart from the sound of his own ragged breathing, and he clears his throat when it starts to becomes oppressive. 

"I'm sorry," Jensen says again, even more awkward with the recent turn of his thoughts. "You really didn't need to see that." 

When Jensen finally works up the courage to turn to face Jared, it's to find him vaguely flushed, strong, white teeth biting down on his bottom lip, a not quite steady hand raking his hair back from his face.

"I'm not some innocent you need to protect, Jensen," Jared says. The words would be more reassuring if Jared could meet his gaze, and Jensen feels a surge of fondness overwhelm him.

"I know, but I kind of got the impression that the dragon world isn't quite so free and easy about sex as the human world, that's all. I thought that kind of thing might be offensive to your people."

Jared's tense shoulders drop and he risks a glance at Jensen. "We don't have anything like that at home," he agrees cautiously. "But I wasn't offended," he adds hurriedly. "I―through the portals, the TV and movies I watched before I came here didn't seem to be quite so, um, detailed."

Jensen snorts out a laugh. "Considering most of the stuff you were tuning into was still in black and white, no big surprise there."

Jared's flush is finally fading, and he watches Jensen carefully. "I have seen... other things though, on your computer. I was surprised that people were so willing to share such intimacy with strangers."

"Um," Jensen reaches up a hand to scrub at the back of his neck. "Yeah, that's kind of a... specialist arena. Not everyone―most people prefer to keep that kind of thing private."

Jared nods. He seems pleased by the information.

"So I guess it could be kind of tempting for a lot of dragons, the human word," Jensen probes. "Probably be the perfect opportunity to let loose and spread your wings, no pun intended."

Jared frowns, and drops his gaze down to his lap to study his hands. "You mean you think I should go out and find someone to experiment with?"

The whole conversation is Jensen's fault, and he's got absolutely no right to dictate to Jared what he can and can't do, but it's hard to remember that with sudden slam of fury Jared's artless question provokes. 

"I thought you said dragons mated for life!" 

"I thought you said humans didn't."

"They don't, but that's not the point! I don't want your first time," he pauses, fixes Jared with a commanding stare, which doesn't work because Jared _still_ isn't looking at him, "it would be your first time, right?"

"First guy, first girl, first dragon. First everything." 

"Right, that's―okay, good," Jensen stumbles, "I think it's best... Jared, your first time, it should _mean_ something."

"Did yours?" Jared asks. He's tense again, lips set in a thin line.

"No. It really didn't." Jensen shrugs uncomfortably. "We hadn't been dating long, and it definitely wasn't serious, but in the end it kind of felt like it was easier to do it than to try to come up with a reason not to." Jensen stares at Jared's bowed head, and waits tensely for his response. When it finally comes, it isn't anything that he'd been expecting.

"I saw you," Jared says, suddenly. "It was strictly forbidden for me to use the portal to watch you, but I managed to sneak into a private viewing chamber one day during a royal celebration when I knew everyone would be too focused on the ceremony to notice. You were in the bedroom of your parents home with a girl. _Celia,_ " he says the name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. "The two of you were―was she the one...?"

Jensen shakes his head, a knot of inexplicable guilt burning hot in his stomach. It's a familiar sensation, he realizes suddenly, the same one he gets every time he sleeps with someone new. It's been happening for so long, he's pretty much stopped noticing it, but now suddenly, with Jared here right next to him and all his talk of mating and names burnt on souls, he wonders if there's more to it than that. It also occurs to him that this is the reason Jared only ever risked peaking in on him once. A fresh wave of guilt rushes over him, and he pushes it aside for later examination.

"No," Jensen says when he realizes Jared is still waiting for him to answer. "No, we were just friends, kids and she wanted to―doesn't matter. It was years afterward that I―well, it was a long damn time anyway." 

"So if it didn't mean anything to you, why does it have to mean anything to me?"

"Because _you're_ different, because the world you were raised in is different. You can't just ignore all of that now because things didn't work out exactly like you had planned."

"Coming here caused a lot of disharmony in my family." Jared looks up at Jensen finally, and Jensen frowns and nods, because it's not like this is news to him. "If I go home now alone, if I have to admit that I failed..."

"Are you kidding me? You can't go round fucking random dudes in the hope you'll find one to take home so you can rub your parents nose in the fact you were right!"

Jared lurches to his feet, and paces the room in front of Jensen. "That isn't what I meant, but I think you're right; in this world maybe I can have more than one mate, maybe I just need to search for him."

"No, Jay, no; that's just crazy. No one in his right mind is going to turn down sex with you if you're offering it no strings attached, but that's all it'll be, believe me, and I can't stand by and watch you get hurt like that. I might not be your mate, but I'm still your friend "

Jared rounds on him, his expression filled with furious betrayal. "If you were really my friend, then you would help me, and if no one in his right mind would turn down sex with me, then why do you?"

"Because I care about you! You think we've got some big, mythical bond, and I'm not going to take advantage of that, whether you want me to or not!"

Jared freezes, and then turns slowly to face Jensen. "So not because I'm a male?"

"What? No. I mean yes, that too. Obviously."

"You don't sound as certain as before," Jared says, and prowls across the floor toward Jensen and drops down on the coffee table in front of him, not enough room so their knees jostle for space, and much too close, as always. "Jensen, if you think there's a chance, you have to tell me. I don't need you to protect me." Jared leans in, closer still, and suddenly Jensen is struggling to remember what his objections were. 

"I―Jared, this is a really bad idea," he perseveres through the sluggish heat working its way through his veins and slowly fogging his brain. "I'm not even looking for a relationship right now, let along a lifetime commitment, and neither of those things matter if I can't get past the guy thing."

"I'm willing to take the risk," Jared says. "Are you?"

Jensen looks back at Jared, takes in his familiar face, the slanted eyes that he can still see peering back at him from a tiny green body at the end of his bed, no longer glittering now, but shining bright, the colors swirling and merging. Jensen is abruptly reminded that Jared isn't human, much as it's normally impossible to tell just by looking at him, and maybe he's right; Jared is a dragon, a whole other species. Do the normal rules even apply?

He nods slowly, not sure what his response will be until he hears the words leave his mouth. 

"If you're really sure, we can try―"

Jared lets out a booming laugh and leans into the last few inches separating them to drag Jensen to his feet and into a bone-crushing hug. 

"It's going to be so great, Jensen, I promise," he mutters against Jensen's ear. His tongue flicks out to lick against the dent in his lobe, and Jensen feels a shiver work its way down his spine. 

When his body begins to relax against Jared's, he forces himself to straighten, and tries to pull away to put a few much needed millimeters of space between them.

Jared tightens his hold, clings even tighter for a second and then loosens his grasp to gently push Jensen away and to peer down into his face. "Got it," he says, the light in his eyes dimming a little, but the beaming grin still in place. "Baby steps."

"Baby steps," Jensen agrees, and wonders why Jared's idea of baby steps feels more like he's just strapped himself into a pair of ten-league boots.

  


Jared has been out of sorts for days, creeping round the apartment with a furrowed brow, letting out little stifled sounds of pain every time he stands or sits down or raises a glass to his lips. Whenever Jensen asks him if he's okay though, Jared pastes on a fake smile and assures him he's fine.

Jensen isn't used to worrying about someone else, but he's constantly fighting the urge to take Jared's temperature and hustle him off to see a doctor. Or maybe a vet. 

Finally, when 11:00 a.m. rolls around on day five and Jared still hasn't put in an appearance, Jensen cleans his brushes, carefully caps his paints and heads for Jared's bedroom. 

"Jared," he says, tapping softly at the door. "Jared, man, you up yet?" There's no response, and Jensen nudges in close to the door, tilts his head and lays his ear against the cool wood. There's no sound from within, no hint of soft snores or moans of pain, but Jensen isn't sure that's any reason to be reassured. 

Everything about Jared is loud; he slams doors when he's entering or leaving a room, crashes and bangs his way through food preparation like he's auditioning for a role in Stomp, and routinely clatters about the apartment as if he's three times the size he actually is. Jensen assumes it's the dragon in him; maybe spatially, Jared judges the clearance he requires to navigate Jensen's small, human-sized home, based on his other form. He's pretty sure he remembers reading cats use their whiskers to do something similar.

Point is, a silent Jared is generally something to be concerned about; the last time it had happened, Jensen had found him with his head stuck out of the high bathroom window, his shoulders wedged firmly and his arms trapped at his sides. It had taken some manoeuvring to release him, and when Jared had finally popped free, red-faced and waterlogged from the heavy storm that had been raging long before Jensen realized Jared was missing, he'd been muttering about spotting something intriguingly shiny on the ledge.

That memory convinces him he needs to investigate further, and Jensen reaches out toward the handle of the door. "Jay," he calls again, a little louder this time, in case Jared is asleep. Or jacking off. 

The thought causes an unexpected surge of lust, images flooding his brain, ridiculously hot and leaving him uncomfortably aware just how often this has been happening lately. Given the frequency―and detail―of his X-rated Jared fantasies, the question nags as it has often has in the past few weeks why it's suddenly happening now.

In all his years, Jensen has never felt anything beyond an occasional fleeting curiosity about sex with anyone other than women, so he's never had any reason to give his orientation any real thought. He hadn't been raised with any particular prejudices, and he's never got a sense that either of his parents would have had a problem if he, or any of their children, had been gay. 

Maybe having a pyromaniac for a son made every other life choice seem trivial in comparison.

The handle squeaks under Jensen's hand, reminding him what he'd been doing, and he holds his breath as he eases the door gently open.

Jared isn't jacking off. Jensen isn't even sure he's asleep; he's wrapped up in his sheets and comforter, blankets heaped on top of him as if he'd woken up cold and piled everything he could find onto his bed and hunkered down. His face is bright red, heat leaching off him, and now that Jensen is close enough, he can hear him muttering softly, hoarse words of protest escaping him that make no sense.

When Jensen carefully lays the back of his hand over Jared's forehead, he's impossibly hot, and dragon or not, it can't be normal; Jensen has never seen him look so flushed, and he's been close enough often enough to have noticed. A gentle nudge to Jared's shoulders has absolutely no affect. When Jensen tries a firmer one with the same result, a fast growing panic rushes through him.

He's no good at this, no good at caring for someone else, at knowing what to do ease another person's suffering. He has the suddenly overwhelming urge to call his mom, to ask her what he should do. Fast on its heels is the realization at how exactly she'd react to Jensen calling her out of the blue with a request for advice on the freaking _dragon_ he's living with and maybe kind of dating, and it's like a bucket of cold water to his face.

Thankfully, it also calms him down enough to think straight, and reminds him about his own childhood illnesses. 

It takes time, but Jared eventually begins to cool with the repeated applications of washcloths dipped in a bowl of ice water to his face and upper body. The hectic flush fades, and the muttering evens out until he seems to be sleeping naturally at last. Jensen sighs and starts adding some of the sheets back to rest on top of Jared's half naked frame when his teeth begin chattering; he doesn't want Jared to catch a chill now that he's manged to get his temperature down. 

He tells himself firmly that covering the sleek, shining muscles of Jared's chest is a good thing.

By the time Jensen is satisfied Jared can safely be left alone to rest, nearly two hours have passed.

His stomach grumbles loudly announcing it's displeasure with the lack of food―he hasn't eaten since he forced down half a bagel at 6:00 a.m. that morning, burnt and still mostly frozen because Jared hadn't been up to make it for him. 

It's kind of scary how many things he's beginning to rely on Jared for, because Jared isn't going to be around for ever, Jensen knows that. Jared thinks he's in love, thinks they're _mated_.

But Chris is right; Jared is smart. He's going to figure out any day now that waiting around for a human he barely knows who hasn't even worked up the nerve yet to kiss him is a big mistake. As soon as that happens, he'll return to his own world, grateful for his lucky escape. 

Jensen tries to tell himself that at least this time he won't have to question his own sanity again―plus he's planning to take plenty of pictures; just in case the doubts ever come back to haunt him―but even that doesn't ease the heavy pit that grows in his stomach at the idea of never seeing Jared again. 

As he makes his way to the kitchen, Jensen glances around the apartment, which is slowly filling with trash. He's been distantly aware of it for weeks, and has grown used to navigating the rooms and all the hidden corners of his home with extra care. 

Jared vehemently disagrees with Jensen’s labelling. He informs Jensen loftily that it’s treasure. He does spend an inordinate amount of time cataloging it all in a set of huge, complicated ledgers, and then polishing and arranging it so that it sparkles at it’s brightest when the sun hits it just right. 

Mostly, Jensen reluctantly agrees with his assessment. The contrast of Jared’s actual treasure that also has steadily also been appearing—huge nuggets of old, soft gold, ice white diamonds, less flashy emeralds and dark blood rubies flashing fire—against the sculpted shapes of aluminium foil, bright copper piping and gleaming pieces of trashed kitchen equipment, are actually pretty beautiful. 

In fact, Jensen had even tried suggesting showing his creations, but Jared had reacted with horror, and begun dismantling his displays and moving his treasures to hide them throughout the apartment until Jensen had given up.

Jensen guesses it's Jared's dragon nature that compels him to guard his possessions so jealously, and, given the value of some of it, Jensen can't really argue with that.

So, much as he's usually pretty excited to see what Jared will create next, today he's viewing the pieces of scrap mental, half dismantled toasters and a collection of bright green glass bottles, with a jaundiced eye. He has no idea where Jared even picks up half the junk he drags home, but he has a sudden horrifying image of Jared dumpster diving, pulling out gross, moldy old junk and then licking it, or cutting himself on mirror shards that rats have peed on or pricking himself on a used syringe.

More horrifying suddenly than the thought of Jared leaving him, is the idea of Jared harmed because of Jensen's lack of care. He pauses undecided, and then grabs his laptop and makes his way back to Jared's room. 

Food can wait; Jensen's got symptoms to look up online.

*~*

It's later that evening, after Jensen has finally been forced from Jared's side by his cramping stomach to forage for food. He's also had to concede defeat in his attempt to diagnose Jared's illness, and he's standing at the sink, hurriedly choking down the other half of the cold, stale bagel when Jared appears. 

He looks like crap; hair sweaty and sticking up as if he's spent the morning in a wind tunnel rather than bed, and deep, dark hollows under his eyes that look like bruises. 

Jensen fights down the urge to hug Jared in relief, and busies himself pouring a tall glass of orange juice that he sets carefully down in front of Jared who's collapsed onto a seat at the table. Jared reaches out with a trembling hand to grab the glass and drains it in two long swallows. Jensen silently refills it with the last of the juice and watches intently as he repeats the process. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks when Jared slouches forward in his chair and drops his forehead to rest against his folded arms sprawled across the table.

"Better," Jared mumbles. "Thank you."

"So, what do you think's wrong with you? Flu or something?" he asks hopefully. While Jensen spent the day quietly fretting, and alternating between reapplying the cold washcloths every time Jared's fever started to take hold again, and piling extra blankets over his shivering form once it passed, it occurred to him that he has no idea how to contact Chris. He also doesn't know whether dragon anatomy means he can risk taking him to a normal doctor or hospital room, no idea whether human medicine will even work if he does.

Jared looks up, bleary eyed and miserable. "I've been trying to change," he says, mouth tight and pained. 

"To your dragon form?" Jensen asks cautiously. Does too much time in his human form affect his ability to shift? He hasn't changed since that first day when he'd destroyed the couch, but he didn't seem to have any difficulty then. Between one blink and the next he'd switched seamlessly; no obvious effort involved. 

Recently, Jensen has been trying to work up the courage to ask him to change again. Everything had happened so quickly that day, he hadn't really had time to take it in. He'd been aware of his hugeness, of course, of the rogue tail that Jared had seemed a little too excited to control, but beyond that no real detail. And he wants to see him, wants to touch his scales, run his fingers along his wings. He's fast coming to realize he wants to know everything about Jared.

"No, not my dragon form," Jared says. "Into a female. A human female, I mean," he adds wearily. He doesn't seem to have the strength to lift his head from where it's pillowed in his arms, and completely misses Jensen's horror-struck expression.

"What the fuck?" Jensen says, jerking upright from his slumped position at Jared's side. Jared raises his head just enough to be able to see Jensen, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the angry tone. "You can _do_ that? This version of you, it isn't even you? It's just like something you picked out from a catalog?" 

Jensen shakes his head, struggling to take it in, because how can Jared not be Jared? He knows his face better than he knows his own, his expressions are familiar; he can tell when Jared is eating something new that he loves, when he's pretending for Jensen's sake that what he's set down in front of him isn't basically inedible, when he's tired, when he's angry, when he's _happy_ , and none of that was the real Jared? 

Jensen's frozen halfway across the room, unsure whether he even wants to find out the answer and fighting the fast growing sense of betrayal, when Jared sits up and shakes his head, his hair flip-flopping from side to side with the violence of the movement. 

"No, it's me―I mean, I'm me. I just, I thought that if I could switch between human and dragon, maybe I could choose a different version of me. A female version of me." 

Jensen crosses the room in two long strides, and reaches over to smack Jared firmly upside his head.

"Ow!" Jared yelps and rubs his knuckles grumpily over the sore spot. "What was that for?"

"For being an idiot, that's what!" 

"I don't understand," Jared says plaintively. "I did it for you; you've only ever liked females before and I thought if I could _become_ one―Ow! Dammit, would you stop that!" he growls, a deep, base sound that causes a corresponding heat to flare down low in Jensen's stomach.

"Jay, you can't just completely change yourself for someone else! You're amazing, you deserve to be wanted for exactly what you are, and if someone can't see just how special you are, then they're a dick, and they don't deserve you in the first place!"

"You're not a dick," Jared says softly.

Jensen snorts out a bitter laugh. "Apparently I am if you think you need to mutilate yourself for me."

"I don't think that, I just thought―I thought it would be easier, that's all. I know you're trying, but I hate that you have to."

Jensen nods and steps forward. Jared's too out of it at first, still weak from his idiotic attempts at transformation to realize what's happening when Jensen pulls him up onto his feet. Jensen is patient, coaxing Jared gently into the position he wants, until finally he's upright, blinking dazedly, breath heaving out through softly parted lips as he finally catches on. 

Jared's mouth is full and pretty, and Jensen's never kissed another guy before, never felt the slightest inclination to, but he wants to now, so he reaches up to lick carefully at the edges of Jared's dry lips. Jared gets with the program pretty much immediately, and he shifts to grasp Jensen's biceps in a bruising grip, hanging on as Jensen deepens the kiss, edging his tongue into Jared's mouth and then pulling back to nip at the curve of his lower lip. 

It's not different from kissing a girl, not really, but at the same time it's like nothing he's ever experienced before. Jared has no tiny waist to rest his hands on, no fragile frame that needs delicacy and slow touches. Instead, Jared is all hard edges, beard-roughened skin and strong jaw that just cries out for biting kisses and sucking bruises into the secret hollows of his neck. Jensen matches thoughts to deed, and Jared groans, fingers tightening painfully on Jensen's arms.

It takes a moment for Jensen to realize Jared is actually swaying on the spot, long legs trembling and unsteady, only the grip he still has on Jensen holding him up. Jensen breaks the kiss and ducks his head away when Jared immediately tries to recapture his lips.

"Shit, Jared, you're about to hit the deck," he mutters, desperately trying to herd Jared's trembling form back down onto the chair. "And I'm not sure I rate my chances of getting you back up again if you do."

"Not gonna fall," Jared grouches, speech beginning to slur. "I'm a _dragon!_ I could get us _both_ up, put you on my back and carry you forever If I wanted, and I'd never need to rest." 

"Yeah, okay, tough stuff," Jensen soothes. "But I'm kind of tired. Thought it would be nice if we sat down together for a while."

"Only if you're tired," Jared says after long, drawn out consideration. He's watching Jensen suspiciously, eyes bleary and unfocused, cheeks already flushing with what Jensen's suspects is yet another return of the fever that's been ravaging his system. 

"Hey, Jared," Jensen says quickly, carefully nudging Jared's shoulder as he begins to list gently to one side. Jared lets out a hoarse grunt that Jensen takes as he cue to keep going. "How would I get in touch with Chris if I needed to?"

"Wha―" Jared jerks back to life like he's taken a cattle prod to his rear end. "What for? You're not sending me back, are you, Jensen?" Jared asks, his eyes beginning to shine with what Jensen is horrified to see looks like might be the beginning of actual tears.

"No, Jay, no, of course not," he says quickly, desperately hoping to head any illness-induced emotional breakdowns off at the pass. "But I don't have anyone to contact if something happens to you, if you get sick," he adds when Jared just stares at him, lost.

"Not, gonna get _sick_ ," Jared says as if the very idea is an insult. "I'm a dragon! I can look after you if you get sick though," he adds generously. "Dragons are very healthy, strong. Much stronger than little humans," he adds fondly, leaning forward to nuzzle against Jensen neck with his nose. When he pulls back, Jensen notices that his cheeks are definitely redder, and when he lays the backs of his fingers against Jared's forehead, the heat is pouring off him again.

"I know, I know." Jared nudges at his neck, and Jensen tilts it obligingly before reminding himself Jared is sick and moving firmly away. "But what if you―I mean, not _you_ ," he adds when Jared begins to scowl, "but another, less healthy dragon, got a temperature? What would he take? Advil? This other, hypothetical, not you, dragon that is."

"Dragons can't get a temperature," Jared scoffs, leaning in to nuzzle determinedly again at Jensen's neck. He seems to like that spot a lot. It's kinda starting to grow on Jensen too. He shakes his head in an effort remind himself to focus on the matter at hand. 

"You feel a little warmer than normal now, Jay," he perseveres. "What does that mean if not you being sick?"

"Fixing me," Jared slurs. "Healing me," he adds with a shrug. "Burning off whatever is trying to infect me because my defenses were lowered from trying to change, but I'm a dragon, so it can't―I just burn it right out again." He lifts his hands up toward his chest holding them curled in front of him like claws, and let out a fierce little _Rawr!_ sound. 

Jensen bites down hard on his lip, because that's fucking adorable is what it is.

The urge to smile vanishes when Jensen thinks back to the cold washcloths, the chattering teeth and Jensen's dogged determination to get Jared's fever down. He sucks in a guilty breath and scratches a soothing hand through Jared's sweaty hair. The second Jared is healed, Jensen is pinning him down and questioning him until he knows everything there is to know about dragons and dragon anatomy. 

But for now... He pulls Jared to his feet and steers him back toward his bed, grabbing the huge, fluffy afghan from the back of the couch with him as he goes.

  


Left to burn itself out interrupted this time, Jared's weakness and fever had been gone within the day, and by the next morning he was as fit as ever, up long before Jensen so that the first thing Jensen is aware of is the delicious aroma of fresh coffee and bacon waking him from a deep sleep. He crawls out of bed and only delays long enough to brush his teeth and splash his face with water before heading toward the delicious smell, arms held out in front of him zombie-style to avoid any unfortunate bumps or trips caused by Jared's booby-traps, _sorry, art installations_ , and his lack of contacts.

Jared drops his spatula the second Jensen shuffles around the corner and reaches out to pull him into his arms. His head falls into the newly familiar spot just under his chin, and he immediately noses upwards to take hold of the lobe of Jensen's ear between gentle teeth, running his tongue over the unusually sensitive flesh. Jensen shivers, and tilts his head to give Jared more room to work.

"Morning," Jared breathes against his neck. Jensen grunts out a meaningless response that he hopes Jared can translate into something verging on intelligible. Jared's hands have been roving up and down his back the whole time, but now they're making their way purposely lower. 

When both hands make contact with his ass and curl into the taut muscles there to give them a gentle squeeze, Jensen freezes. It's only for a second, his brain wondering distantly if it's too much, too soon, before his hormones get in on the act, assuring him they're behind Jared's groping one hundred percent. 

Jared though must have picked up on the momentary hesitation, because he's sliding his hands away, lifting them up to rest them carefully against Jensen's waist, thumbs rubbing a soft circle on the jutting bones of his hips. 

"Sorry," Jared murmurs, nudging at Jensen's jaw again. "I'm going too quickly."

"No, s'fine," Jensen manages to gasp out just as Jared bites down firmly. Jared seems to be very fond of biting Jensen, marking him, and then soothing away the sting with a rough sweep of his tongue. He wonders if it's a dragon-thing, or a Jared-thing. Either way, it's incredibly hot.

"Did you mean what you said yesterday? About not wanting me to change?" Jared asks, voice muffled against Jensen's skin.

"Yes," Jensen says firmly.

"Good," Jared sighs with relief. "Because if I don't let my wings out soon, I think they're going to burst free on their own. I've never stayed in my human form for so long."

"Why haven't you changed?" Jensen demands, running his hands over the muscles of Jared's shoulders. Jared groans, head dropping forward to rest on Jensen's chest, and Jensen adds some pressure, attempting to loosen the knots he can feel there. "It's a tight squeeze, but there's room. You just need to remember to control your tail."

As quickly as he's loosening the tense muscles, he can feel them clenching back up again as Jared raises his head. "I'll be careful. I don't usually have accidents like that, it was just nerves. Um, so do you want me to wait until you're not around before I―" he trails off, raises his arms aloft, _oh, miming wings,_ Jensen finally realizes, and he stares blankly back.

"Why would I want you to wait? You aren't planning on going all Godzilla and squashing me underfoot or anything, are you?

Jared grins and then the smile drops from his face. "No, I just thought―" Jensen watches him, no idea where he's going with this, and Jared lets out an impatient huff. "I thought you might be uncomfortable with me changing forms. After we kissed.... I just don't want to give you any more reasons not to..." he trails off again, biting hard on his lower lip.

Jensen stares at the marks the strong white teeth have left in that perfect flesh, flesh that only Jensen should be allowed to mar, and he pushes in closer. "What, didn't want to give me a reason to do this?" he asks, and lowers his head to lick at the small dent Jared's teeth have left, and then mouths across the skin to bite down firmly on Jared's jaw. 

Jared jerks, but Jensen holds on tight, and starts working his way down from his jaw, until he's close enough to worry at the corded muscles of his neck.

"Y―yeah," Jared breathes. "Don't, don't stop," he orders when Jensen eases back.

"Wasn't planning to," Jensen says. The last shreds of uncertainty seem to be evaporating in the fierce heat of desire running through him. He hates that Jared has been hiding so much of himself away from him, hates that he thinks it could ever change how he feels about him.

He needs to do something about that. He needs to do something right now. 

He has just enough presence of mind to check everything on the stove is turned off before he's pushing Jared in front of him and through the apartment. By the time they've managed to stumble their way to the bedroom, the haze of lust is just starting to be eaten up again by a confusing mixture of fear and desire. Just kissing Jared is hotter than anything Jensen has experienced before, but it's been a long time, if ever, since he's been so nervous about having sex.

When he looks up, it's to find Jared watching him anxiously, and, as quickly as that, his own nerves are gone.

"Hey, c'mere," he says, and grabs hold of Jared's hands to walk him backward to his bed. Jensen can't see much beyond the end of his nose without his contacts, but it doesn't matter; he's not planning on letting Jared get much further away than that.

He pauses when the back of his knees hit the edge of his bed, and drops his hands to rest on Jared's hips, halting his forward motion. Jared shudders, eyes dark and hot as he tracks Jensen's tongue darting out to wet his dry lips.

Jensen lifts his hand to cup the back of Jared's head, fingers buried in his hair as he pulls him down and angles his head to probe gently at the closed seam of his lips with his tongue. Jared opens his mouth on a gasp, and Jensen's takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He's only in control of it for a moment, before Jared lets out a low growl and slides his tongue into Jensen's mouth hard and fast. He's a little clumsy, but the raw heat makes up for it, and Jensen can already feel his cock hardening in his pants.

Jared must be able to feel it too, because the next second he lets out a pleased moan, and pulls away to drop down to his knees, nuzzling at Jensen's rapidly growing cock through his pants. He's got his cheek resting against Jensen's crotch, breathing in deep and running his hands desperately up and down Jensen's thighs. 

Jensen has about a second to hope he's going to keep those sharp teeth of his in check before Jared starts pawing frantically at his sleep pants, tugging them down over his hips, and all of his higher brain function is lost. Jensen drags his own t-shirt over his head then, and stumbles when Jared pushes him down onto the bed where he lands, to sit naked on the edge, with a bounce.

He doesn't have chance to protest at the rough treatment, plus, who's he kidding; it's fucking hot, before Jared is pushing his legs apart and licking hungrily at the head of his cock. Jensen jerks, bitten off howl trapped low in his throat. His hands flutter uselessly at his sides, before finally settling to sink down and bury themselves in Jared's hair. He's careful to keep his grip light, and lets Jared control the movement, but he can't help the instinctive jerk his hips give when Jared finally takes the head of his dick into his mouth and suckles at it hungrily.

The sharp movement has him forcing himself briefly deeper into Jared's mouth, and Jared chokes a little in surprise but doesn't pull back. Jensen uses his grip on his hair to ease Jared gently off, and Jared stares up at him, confusion and frantic hunger in his gaze. "Jay, you don't have to, I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with―"

Jared's eyes crinkle and he huffs out a little laugh, pads of his fingers rubbing tantalizingly against the pale skin of Jensen's hips. "Are you kidding me? I've been waiting my whole life for this, Jen," he says, and then he lowers his head back down, keeping eye contact this time as he licks a wet stripe up Jensen's cock. Jensen lets out a long groan and surges to his feet, pulling Jared with him and stripping him hurriedly, stopping with each new piece of skin revealed to place wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. 

By the time he's naked, Jared is panting and letting out soft little hungry noises, his cock huge and hard and pointed toward his chest. Jensen's stomach clenches at the sight―he was right, Jared has got absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, and Jensen's a little worried now about how exactly it's going to fit.

Jensen pulls the lube he'd gone out and brought a few days before, and ignores the condoms―Jared's never had sex before and Jensen's never had sex without protection. Besides, he doesn't want anything between them right now. 

He can feel the heat of Jared directly behind him, pressing in close, and when he turns from closing his bedside drawer, Jared is on him in a heartbeat, pushing him down onto the bed, and sliding over him. His skin is slick with sweat and glides against Jensen's as he maneuvers himself into place over him, cock coming to nestle snug and tight against his ass. Jared thrusts jerkily, mindlessly, and Jensen holds his breath, body drawing up tight in tension, until Jared seems to gain control over his emotions and lifts up on to his knees to kiss a path from the top of Jensen's spine down to the dip at the hollow of his back. He pauses there for a minute and then continues on, teeth biting down strongly on the clenched muscles of his ass cheeks.

"Fuck, Jared," Jensen gasps out, hands scrabbling on the bed. He fingers finally drift across the lube and he grabs at it thankfully, reaching behind him to hold it out. When Jared doesn't take it from him, and there's no more of the brain melting licks and touches, Jensen rolls his upper body over on to his side to find out what's happening.

Jared is staring down at the lube in his hand like it's a rattlesnake, eyes wide and scared. Jared's cock though, Jensen is very relieved to note, is still hard and flushed, precome leaving the tip shiny and wet.

"What's up?" he manages. Just the weight of Jared's body, heavy and unmoving against his thighs is hotter than most of the full blown sex he's had. His own dick is pressing happily against the bed, and he's having difficulty holding back the small rutting motions he's making, but Jared is frozen and still above him, and Jensen needs to get things back on track. Right the fuck now. "Jay, you okay? Do, god, do you need to stop?" _Please, please, please, don't say yes._

Jared shakes his head like he's coming out of a fog, and focuses on Jensen, eyes hooded and dark. "I don't. Jen, do you want me to―" he makes an abortive gesture toward the lube Jensen is still clutching, and Jensen nods, pressing it into Jared's hand.

"Yeah. Jay, I've never done this before, and I don't want to risk hurting you―"

"You won't―"

"Please," Jensen says. "I need you to do this. I need to know your first time is going to be amazing, and I can't guarantee that any other way."

Jared swallows hard, guilt and desperation flaring in his eyes before nods. He leans forward to kiss Jensen, long and deep, his hand sliding down Jensen's arm until their fingers entwine briefly and Jared pulls back, lube in his hand. The soft snick of the lube cap is loud in the quiet room.

Jensen rolls back onto his stomach, spreads his legs at Jared's urging. It's only a moment before Jared's cool, wet fingers are brushing gently at his hole, circling it over and over again until Jensen's ready to scream. Hours, maybe years pass with the pleasure burning hotter and hotter until Jared finally, fucking _finally_ presses forward and Jensen feels the press of a long finger entering him. It burns a little, but that soon fades as Jared repeats the motion, thrusting movements becoming firmer as he picks up the pace. The burn returns as Jared quickly progresses from one finger to two and by the time he's up to three, Jensen is shivering beneath him. Any hint of discomfort is forgotten when Jared's thick fingers inadvertently hits some magical spot deep inside, _prostate, has to be his prostate,_ that sends a sharp, shocky jolt of pleasure shooting up his spine. 

Jensen spreads his legs further, trying to get his knees up under him while he pushes back into the rough press of Jared's fingers inside of him. Jared's hitting that spot now with practically every thrust, and Jensen is panting and moaning under him, desperate for something else, something more.

He lets out a little cry of distress when Jared pulls his fingers free, but in the next second he's back again with what must be his cock, pushing determinedly against Jensen's hole, huge and hard, and surely too big to fit. Jared's hands sweep down Jensen's heaving sides, and grab on tight to his hips, holding him steady as he pushes forward in one deep lunge.

They both cry out, Jensen stretched to breaking point, his hole spasming hopelessly against the cock that feels like it's splitting him in two, and Jared barely pauses before he pulls out and rams himself home again. The pain burns hot for a moment, and then fades as Jared finds his rhythm, thrusting in to Jensen in a desperate rolling motion. He's muttering hotly against Jensen's neck, telling Jensen _how beautiful he is, how much he loves him, how perfect a mate he is for letting Jared do this._

Jensen can feel his climax building, and pushes frantically back, balls tightening. Jared reaches down to enfold Jensen's cock in a rough grasp, and Jensen starts to come the second he feels his hand on him. His legs abruptly give way, and he collapses down onto the bed, Jared's hand still wrapped round him, easing him through the aftershocks, while he continues to pump with increasingly jerky movements into Jensen before he lets out a long drawn-out growl and grinds in deep and holds himself there.

Jensen can feel Jared coming, hot and deep inside him, and suddenly a huge surge of sensation washes over him. He feels like he's coming all over again, dick still soft in Jared's hand, and Jared's cock wedged tight while he continues to thrust lazily into Jensen, easy now with the wet slick inside him.

Jared is nosing at Jensen's throat, shifting his attention to bite down on the sensitive indentation in his ears that small, much sharper, teeth left there all those years ago, and Jensen suddenly feels another spike of confusing, conflicting emotion rush through him. Love and happiness and bone-deep contentment jostle furiously with his own quickly fading lethargy, small, tingling shocks of residual pleasure, and fast growing confusion.

Sprawled out on top of him, Jared stiffens, and Jensen feels a new spike of fear shoot through him, chest abruptly tight and stomach clenching over roiling panic. Jared pulls gently up, and then out of him, and Jensen is briefly distracted from his chaotic emotions by the sting of tenderness the action brings. 

Jared lets out a soft, sympathetic noise, and Jensen feels him clamber to his feet to head for the bathroom. He returns quickly, warm, wet cloth tenderly cleaning the sticky, fast drying mess from between Jensen's thighs, and then rolling him over to repeat the process with the tacky come he's left behind on his own stomach. 

When Jared immediately heads wordlessly back to the bathroom to dispose of the washcloth, Jensen sits up and reaches for his pants, unsettled. There's something not quite right happening here―Jared can't meet his eyes, and Jensen is having difficulty even controlling his breathing over the sick dread settling in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't understand it; he's just had the most amazing sex of his life, and instead of sinking back to fall asleep wrapped around Jared, which is all he wanted to do few short minutes ago, now he can't imagine ever being calm enough to sleep again.

When Jared enters the room, he's wearing pants again, chest still bare and only the marks Jensen has left behind on his flesh to cover him. Jensen stares at them hungrily, feeling the urge despite everything to add more.

The bed jostles as Jared sits down on the edge beside Jensen, and reaches out a hand to begin a smooth, petting motion along Jensen's arm and shoulder. "Jay―" he begins, but Jared still can't meet his gaze. Guilt and sadness is pouring off him, and suddenly Jensen understands.

"This is you," he breathes, "your emotions I'm feeling." Jared nods, even though they both know it isn't a question. Jensen clambers up off the bed, jerking away when Jared reaches out a hand towards him. A deep throb of pain sets up in Jensen's chest, and he shoots Jared a venomous look. "Stop it," he bites out. "Just, stop it and get out of my head."

Jared's shoulders hunch in misery, and Jensen heaves out a deep sigh of relief as he's left alone again with his own emotions. Except, he realizes abruptly, he isn't. He can still feel Jared, a soft awareness there at the back of his head, muted now but present, like a second heartbeat setting up home in his chest.

"Is this because we had sex?" he demands.

Jared swallows hard. "Yes."

"Did you know it would happen?" Guilt flares hot, instantly muffled, and Jensen swears low and fierce. "Fuck, Jared, I can't believe you would do that, not warn me―" He lifts a hand to knuckle at his eyes, headache looming and distantly aware that his hand is trembling. "Just tell me how."

"I told you we were mated," Jared starts, hesitant and Jensen nods impatiently. "I bit you and took your blood into me, but for the bond to be formed, you had to take something of mine into you..."

Jensen lets out a rough bark of unamused laughter. "Jesus Christ, a fucking mystical STD? Are you kidding me? Fuck, Jared," he says again, feeling lost. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I wanted to, I _meant_ to, when the time was right, when you were more sure of me, but everything happened so quickly. I didn't expect that you would let me―"

"Don't try and pin this on me!"

"I wasn't! This is completely my fault―"

"Damn straight it is!" Jared's emotions are still there in the back of his head, like an annoying tune he can't get out, but underneath the gentle, almost reassuring, hum, there's a huge well of emotion, battened back for now, but surging against the wall, hammering to break free. A weird buzzing sets up in his ears, and Jensen swallows queasily, sweat beading on his upper lip. "I―you need to leave," he says, because Jensen can't think while Jared's emotions are choking him, and he doesn't know any more which feelings are his and which are Jared's, and right now he doesn't want either of them.

"You want me to go?" Jared asks, voice small and scared like it never is, and Jensen wants to tell him no, that he just needs some space, some time to figure this all out, but there's no room inside him any more for rational thought, and the buzzing is getting louder, and the pain in his chest is crushing the life out of him... 

"Yes!" he shouts. "Yes, I want you to go, of _course_ I want you to go! You've ruined my whole fucking life, and all because all you've never stopped once to think about what I wanted and just did whatever the hell you wanted! You didn't mean to bite me and make me your mate, you didn't mean to fuck me and bond me to you, but you did, and now I don't even get to escape you in my fucking _thoughts!_ You don't love me, Jared, because if you did, you never would have forced any of this on me." 

Jensen is breathing hard, vision blurring with the pain from the pressure in his head, in his chest, in his _heart_. Across the room, Jared is blurry and indistinct, hunched in on himself and arms wrapped tight around his middle. Jensen wants to go to him, pull him tight against him, but it's almost more than he can do to remain on his feet right right then, and anything more is beyond him.

The world tilts sickeningly when Jared pushes himself upright and walks across the room toward him. Jensen drops his gaze to the ground in an attempt to derail the sudden rush of vertigo, and shudders when Jared lays a fleeting hand on his arm, fingers ghosting across his flesh and leaving a burning trail of heat. 

"I'm sorry," Jared says softly, and Jensen desperately wants to call him back, but he's incapable of even responding. The buzzing in his ears is all he can hear now, darkness trembling at the edges of his vision as he stumbles backward, grateful when he feels the cool supporting safety of the wall behind him. He slides down it until he hits the floor and then curls up in a shaking huddle, dragging the t-shirt that he finds up toward his face, closing his eyes when the darkness washes over him and he slips over the edge, bathed in the soft scent of his mate.

  


Jensen doesn't want to open the door, not once he's seen who it is on the other side, but the hammering goes on for so long, and is interspersed with such detailed and drawn out threats of bodily harm, that eventually it's enough to penetrate even the deep dark gloom he's mired in.

Doesn't mean he has to be hospitable though, especially when he knows Chris has only opened a portal outside instead of inside his apartment to piss him off. Jensen flings open the door without greeting, and heads straight back to the living room to curl back up on the couch, blankets wrapped round him like a hobo.

"Here," Chris says, dropping a bulging gray cloth sack onto the floor at Jensen's feet. "This has gone on long enough, and it ends now."

"What is it?" Jensen asks without interest.

This isn't Chris's first visit, and as none of them so far have been particularly pleasant, he's not holding out much hope this one will be going any differently.

 

Jensen had woken the morning after he'd bonded with Jared, shivering and stiff from his night on the hardwood floor, to find Chris staring down at him, a look of deep dislike on his face. Jensen doesn't remember the resulting conversation in any great detail, he'd still been pretty out of it at the time, but the gist of it was that Jared had sent him back to check Jensen was okay, which Chris had dutifully done, although not with a blanket or a pillow, fuck you very much, and that he had Jared to thank for the fact that he still had all his internal organs in place.

Jensen had spent the next three days alternating between sleeping and throwing up, before Chris had appeared again, a long, thin bottle in his hand filled with a liquid that shone silvery white through the fragile glass. Jensen had tried to refuse it, but Chris had grabbed him by his hair, jerked his head back and pinched his nose until his only real alternatives were asphyxiation or swallowing, and in a moment of insanity, he'd chosen swallowing.

Jensen still doesn't know what was in the potion, but he'd started to feel better pretty much as soon as it hit his stomach. At first, he'd wondered if it was something to break the bond he and Jared shared, but he quickly discounted the idea; Jared was still present, a distant and muddy awareness in the back of his head, as if the bond was stretched almost to breaking point, or Jared himself was purposely blocking him out.

It didn't matter. Once the sickness had passed and Jensen could think clearly again he knew that what he felt for Jared had nothing to do with the bond, that it would exist even without it, although right now he was pathetically grateful for the connection because it was the only one he had, thanks to Chris, the utter bastard, who had refused point blank on all his subsequent visits to give him even a hint on how Jared was doing or pass any of his messages on.

"It's his letters to you," Jensen tunes back in to the conversation to hear Chris say, "every picture, every seashell and freaking wild flower the stupid sap saved for you."

Jensen glances quickly up, hope stuttering in his chest. "He sent me a letter?" he glances back down at the huge sack, perplexed.

"No, you idiot," Chris snaps. "It's _the_ letters, the ones Jared wasted half his life writing to you."

Jensen views the bag with fresh eyes, it really is huge, easily big enough to hold the over twenty years worth of letters Jared had claimed he sent. He reaches a hesitant hand out toward it, and then pulls it back not ready to find out yet why Chris has brought them to him. Were they Jared's way of saying goodbye?

"How did you find them? Where have they even been?" he asks to distract himself from his grim thoughts.

"The Queen―" Chris shakes his head, clearly uncomfortable. "You have to understand, his family never believed for a second that anything would come of it, but they still thought it was best if Jared's... obsession with you wasn't encouraged. They hoped that if he didn't ever hear from you, he'd start to forget you. Didn't make a lick of difference. He wrote those damn letters every week, handed them all over completely certain each time the portals lined up that this one would be the one you'd reply to." Chris sighs and drags his hand through his hair. "Read them, Jensen. Read them and then tell me that he doesn't love you."

"It's not about that," Jensen says dully, because it's painfully clear now that there's no secret message to decipher here; Jared didn't ask Chris to bring him the letters. He probably still thinks Jensen had them all along and just ignored them while he was busy convincing himself he wasn't crazy. "I know he loves me, but he doesn't think I love him."

"What?" Chris says angrily. " _That's_ what this is about? Are you kidding me? Jared can be stupidly noble on occasion, but that kid is crazy for you. He'd take whatever crumbs you throw at him and act like it's a banquet! I don't get it, man, where is this even coming from?"

Jensen drops his gaze, embarrassed. "Something went wrong when we bonded and I messed up; he thinks I blame him for making me his mate, for, um, bonding with me."

"Bonding? You mean you two hadn't... So that morning, you were, oh, gross," Chris grimaces at Jensen's awkward nod. "I cannot believe what a complete fuckwit you really are. What did you think was happening? All those years spent faithful to a mate you didn't even know you had? As faithful as a fickle human could hope to be anyway with the whole women instead of men thing," he adds with begrudging generosity when Jensen opens his mouth to protest. "And even without that big fucking clue, Jared straight up _told_ you he was here to court you, I mean, that's what he did, right? Sequestered you away from your family and friends, protected you, provided for you, plied you with tokens of his affections?"

Jensen hesitates, about to say no, except _was_ that what Jared had been doing? It suddenly all falls into place; Jared's reluctance for Jensen to leave the apartment or to meet up with Misha, the cooking duties he'd happily taken on, the endless little cakes and sweet treats that kept appearing―although that one was probably more for Jared's benefit than Jensen's―the art installations encroaching on every spare inch of space, and the threatened destruction of Pauly and Sid. It would actually be pretty damn adorable if he hadn't cast Jensen so firmly in the heroine's role in the romance movie he was playing the lead in.

Of course, it would have been helpful if someone had bothered to explain to the dumb human what exactly a dragon courtship was the precursor to.

"Is Jared okay?" he finally asks, hopeful now that Chris knows just how badly he's fucked up that he'll take pity on him and answer.

"No, he looks like he's spent a week too long in his shell. Almost as bad as you, in fact."

Jensen nods, and his eye is caught again by the sack at his feet. He throws the blanket off his shoulders, and reaches out to paw through the letters. Some of them are open, torn roughly or neatly with a paper knife (or a razor sharp claw, his mind helpfully supplies) but as he searches through the pile, most of them seem to be completely untouched. Perhaps his mother had been protecting his privacy, or perhaps she'd just grown bored with his outpourings.

He doesn't mean to read them, not when he still doesn't have a plan or while Chris is lurking, watching him through a critical, narrow-eyed stare, but he glances at one that's lying half open, and he's lost.

The earliest, oldest envelopes are faded and crumpled, childish handwriting in bright colours, uneven spacing and sizing. Inside the paper is a little brighter, protected from the years by the envelope, but the lettering on the page is no tidier. They're joyous, chatty letters, filled with affection and questions about what Jensen is doing without him.

Over time the questions changed, became less direct, as if Jared had given up on ever receiving a reply. Instead of asking why Jensen hadn't written back, he said he hoped he was well, that he liked his teachers, that he had a brother who was more fun than Jared's own.

As the letters became neater, the tone changed, equally open, but more now about sharing his life with Jensen. There was surprising maturity in his words, discussions about how they would merge their lives, fights with his parents, and, as he aged, the changes he fought for so they could be recognized as a couple in his world.

Through it all, the hardship and the loneliness and the silence, what stood out the clearest was that Jared had never given up on Jensen. Not once.

Jensen had thought he'd had it hard growing up, suspicion and watchfulness from his parents, doubting himself, doubting his sanity, but he'd never had to face what Jared had. Jared had been loyal to the end, faithful and unswerving in his devotion.

And when the day he'd dreamed of his whole life had finally come, he'd been met with Jensen's rejection, his refusal to accept his love and the barriers he'd placed in their way. Even when Jensen had given in, it had been hard fought, with him controlling the pace, refusing to commit, and guarding his emotions so that if it didn't work, they could both walk away mostly unscathed.

But Jared had never had that option, for him, it had been for life, for better for worse, and all Jensen had been interested in was the better.

And, after all that, the final sacrifice had still been Jared's; releasing Jensen because he truly believed it was what he wanted, and even then sending Chris to him to ensure he was cared for.

It's heartbreaking, humbling, and Jensen is ashamed of himself for spending so long indulging in self pity. It was time he put his own heart on the line, time for him to be the one taking some risks.

Jensen glances up at Chris, lost in his own head for so long he's vaguely surprised to find the other man still waiting, mostly patiently, for him.

"Do you know where he is?" he asks, heart in his mouth. "Can I go to him?"

Chris shakes his head regretfully. "Not something I can arrange, Jensen. Up to now it's been a strictly one way street for interaction with humans. Jared had been working on it, but without him on board..."

Jensen nods. He'd half expected that, and maybe it's for the best. Everything had been too easy for him so far, Jared needed to see that he was with him on this, that he wasn't with him because of a bite and the sharing of some bodily fluids; that their bond meant the same to him as it did to Jared.

"Okay, can you get a message to him then?"

"Sure, but, you better have something pretty damn convincing to pull out of the bag," he warns.

Jensen sucks in a deep breath, mind already racing ahead. "I do, I mean, I think I do, but it's gonna take a little time."

Chris stiffens. "How much time, because I think that boy's waited long enough—"

"No, I know," Jensen hurries to reassure. "This isn't just another excuse to get him to come to me. Seriously, Chris, you can trust me. This time."

Chris watches him, eyes narrowed, and then sighs. "Okay, you've got two days; you get it done then, or you leave him to get over you."

Jensen nods quickly. "Done," he hurriedly agrees. Two days is pushing it, but he isn't about to try and renegotiate. In any case, two days is already three weeks and two days too long as far as Jensen is concerned to have his mate back in his bed.

  


Jensen is sitting at his work table, the huge box beside him filled to bursting point. He has the last envelope in his hand, when the air shimmers and shifts in front of him and Chris steps into the room.

"To the minute," Jensen croaks out. He runs his dry tongue along the gummed edge of the envelope, desperately hoping to coax enough moisture out to seal it.

Chris takes pity on him and pulls the envelope out of his hands, pausing to consider the large size and bright metallic sheen before he licks it and presses it closed.

"What is this?" he asks, curiously. "Your Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor?

"Oh, screw you," Jensen mutters through dry lips.

"Always the fickle human," Chris says fondly, and hands him the open soda can from his desk. The liquid inside is warm and flat, but Jensen savors it like it's ice cold vintage champagne.

"What the hell have you been doing to yourself?" Chris asks, taking in Jensen's pale features and heavy shadows under his eyes. "Have you even slept since I saw you?"

"Couple of hours, maybe, here at my desk," Jensen says and Chris frowns and sniffs the air around him.

"I guess you didn't have time to fit in a shower, either?" he asks, nose wrinkled.

"No, and before you ask, yes, I did manage to make it to the bathroom when nature called."

"Think this is going to do it?" Chris asks, eyeing the box, any trace of levity vanishing abruptly.

"I—I don't know," Jensen answers shakily, letting the fear creep in for the first time since he came up with the plan. "I hope so. I don't know what else—" he cuts himself off before he makes an even bigger fool of himself, because he doubts Chris will have much patience if Jensen starts sobbing on his shoulder.

"How is he?" he asks before he can stop himself. "Have you spoken to him? Has he...mentioned me?"

"No," Chris says heavily. "His parents are refusing all visitors for him, and for once in his life, Jared isn't arguing." He pauses, conflicted, and then shrugs. "I think they're trying to push him to reconsider their original plans for him."

"The church?" Jensen demands. "He wouldn't, Jared wouldn't agree to it, would he? He told me he thought the destiny thing was stupid—"

"I don't know. You ask me the same question six months ago and I'd have laughed in your face, but now. I honestly don't know."

Jensen feels dread pool in his stomach, because he knows that if Jared makes that commitment, there's no way his parents will let him walk away from it. Not without giving up his place in their life altogether, and is Jensen worth losing everything for?

"How are you going to be able to get this to him?" he asks in an attempt to distract himself, because losing Jared now is so not an option. The box is huge, and Jared needs to see all of the contents, not just a few bits and pieces that could be snuck in with a food tray.

"Don't worry about that," Chris says with breezy confidence. "I have my ways."

Jensen sucks in a trembling breath, and looks down at the piles of mismatched, often oddly shaped envelopes. This is it, he's gambling everything on this working, and if it doesn't...

"Tell him to read this one last," Jensen says, and holds up the final gold envelope that Chris had sealed.

"You're expecting him to _read_ all these?" Chris says, eyes wide.

"I'm hoping," Jensen says, and pushes his thumbs into his eye sockets in an attempt to hold back the pounding starting up in his head. "I'm really hoping."

~*~

Jensen is on tenterhooks for rest of the day, afraid to risk showering or sleeping in case Jared arrives. He's bared his heart and soul in the letters. Jared surely can't just ignore that, even if all he's going to do is let Jensen down gently in person.

Jared doesn't come.

Soft dusk shades his apartment, followed by dark night. Jensen sits and eventually slumps to one side, misery a hard ball in his stomach as he drifts into a restless sleep.

When he wakes the next morning, he wanders through his entire apartment, finishing up in Jared's old room and feeling foolish. There's no sign of him. His art pieces are still scattered around the apartment, gathering dust, and the almost empty sugar bowl still sits on the kitchen table. Jensen picks up a sugar cube, crunches on it dully, and welcomes the ache the pure sugar leaves in his teeth.

Later, Jensen stands under the shower, letting the scalding heat turn his skin lobster red, and wash away the grime and sweat that feels like it's coating his entire body. It does nothing to melt the ball of ice sitting cold and painful in his stomach, and the terrifyingly fast disappearing hum of connection in the back of his brain.

  


It's another three days before he finally accepts that Jared isn't coming. He's played his final card, and in the end it hadn't been enough.

The fact that he's brought it on himself doesn't make him feel even slightly better. He wonders vaguely if Jared will send a message via Chris, or whether he'll decide it better to keep the break clean. No contact, no chance for Jensen to beg for forgiveness.

He's sitting in his studio, staring blankly at an empty canvas, when there's a pounding at his door. He considers ignoring it because Chris is seriously pissing him off now, but the hammering continues, loud and unbroken.

Ridiculous hope starts to build when none of Chris's usual threats come from beyond the thick wood of the door, and Jensen lurches to his feet, heart pounding unsteadily in time with the hammering noise.

It's the worst time ever to forget about his booby-trapped apartment, and Jensen is genuinely shocked when he slams his toe into a huge glass block. He's hopping madly around, cursing violently in an attempt to ease the pain, when he slips on a crumpled pile of bubble wrap and crashes to the ground

He's sitting cross-legged on the floor, head bent so he can hurriedly examine his toe, his very possibly broken toe, when the front door opens, and Jared is standing there.

Jensen stares up at him, sweat beading on his hairline, and mouth hanging stupidly open.

"Hey, Jen," Jared says. He sounds uncertain. Of course he's uncertain, he's been gone for a month, and when he finally comes home to his mate, it's to find Jensen sitting on their floor like an idiot. Jared probably thinks he hadn't opened the door when he knocked because he didn't want to see him. That thought has Jensen scrambling to his feet, ignoring the pain and limping, hopefully in a very manly fashion, over toward Jared.

As soon as he's close enough, he reaches out to pull Jared away from the still open door, and firmly closes and locks it behind.

They stand in the hallway, too close and staring silently at each other until Jared sucks in a deep breath that seems to set them both free.

"You came—"

"Can I come in—?"

Jared pauses awkwardly, and Jensen takes the opportunity to grab hold of Jared's hand and pull him forward. But Jared is resisting, and Jensen whirls back round toward him, momentary panic giving way to relief when he sees that Jared is just bending down to retrieve something from the floor.

He looks again, and recognises the box he'd given to Chris. All the envelopes visible have been opened, and are now stacked neatly into bundles tied with ribbon. They seem to be in some sort of order, Jensen isn't quite sure what, but Jared's treasure organisational skills had been thorough, and very detailed, so he knows there'll be some complex and possibly equally unfathomable reasoning behind his sorting here.

"So, I can come in?" Jared asks, when the silence grows.

"God, yes!" Jensen says, and tugs on Jared's hand to guide him into the apartment.

When Jared resists for a second time, Jensen tugs a little harder, fully prepared to all out wrestle Jared into his home, _their_ home if need be. And then keep him there, by fair means or foul. He thinks he remembers seeing some chains in one of Jared's pieces, and he will tear down that sucker in a heartbeat to get at them if it looks like they might be needed.

Despite his resolve, Jared is ridiculously strong, and Jensen's tugging doesn't seem to be having much affect. He blames his weakness on the fact he hasn't been eating much recently. In fact, he realizes, he feels a little weak at the knees. He's not sure if it's from hunger, or just from the wild relief strumming through him at the sight of his mate.

"Let me just get my box, Jen," Jared says, a hesitant smile on his mouth, and Jensen reaches out to grab it, embarrassed.

"Oh, sure, sure! Sorry," he adds, and kicks the box across the floor with his foot. It makes the pain in his toe ache all the more, but he's not quite ready to actually risk letting Jared go yet, and it'll take two hands to lift the box.

They make shuffling, stumbling progress to the living room, where Jensen immediately pushes Jared down onto the couch and joins him there, foot tapping out an impatient rhythm when he realizes he's all out of reasons to be hanging on to Jared.

He ignores the fact, and reaches out to pat at Jared's chest under the soft, worn fabric of his t-shirt.

"You look good," he says, pulling his hand slowly away to leave it resting on Jared's knee.

"Thanks," Jared says, eyes roving over Jensen hungrily. "So do you."

"I look like crap," Jensen says, running an awkward hand through his hair. He does; he can't remember the last time he showered, and the only reason he knows he's eaten at all over the last few days is because of the food stains on his shirt. And pants. And probably in his beard, which he also hasn't shaved. "I missed you," Jensen says.

Jared takes in a stuttering breath. "I missed you, too."

"I want you to come home," Jensen rushes into speech the second Jared gets the words out. Jared's muscles seem to lose all their tension at once, and he grins, smile wide and relieved.

In his chest, Jensen feels a deep unfurling warmth, and the hum of awareness at the back of his head breaks open, joy and happiness leaving him dizzy.

Jensen can't resist, and he leans in with a silent apology for whatever food stuff is lingering in his scruff of a beard to kiss Jared. Jared, thankfully, doesn't seem to mind, and kisses him back just as hungrily.

"I hoped that that was what the letters meant," Jared breaks away to pant. "But I didn't want to get my hopes up—"

"You can get anything you want up," Jensen says, and leans in to nip sharply at the edge of Jared's jaw. "In fact, I may have to insist on it."

"I saved it," Jared says, and Jensen pulls back to look at him. "The letter," he explains, and reaches into the top of the box to pull out the gold envelope.

"You didn't open it?"

"Not yet, I thought, hoped, we could open it together?"

Jensen nods, hands reaching out to trace the muscles in Jared's thigh.

"It's not dirty, is it?" Jared adds, mock reluctant, "because some of those others..."

.

"Hey!" Jensen slaps his exploring hand down on Jared's leg with a sharp rebuke. "Those were erotic art!"

"They were cartoons. Mostly cartoons of you jacking off."

Jensen grins. "Actually, they were more than that," he says, and pulls the box toward him. "I'm guessing there's some sort of order to this?" he asks, and grins when Jared begins sorting quickly through the bound envelopes, dropping a pile tied up with a red bow on to Jensen's lap. Jensen quickly pulls the contents out of the envelope, snorting when Jared reaches over to smooth out rough edges and line up the tops of the empty envelopes against each other.

When he has them all set out in date order, Jensen folds them in half and then flicks through them, laughing as Jared lets out a shocked gasp.

"Oh, my god, Jen, you're—"

"Live action animation, baby," Jensen agrees. "I figured, by this date, I'd be about fifteen, and maybe my hormones weren't quite doing what they should be back then, I'm guessing because I was half mated to you at the time, but if I'd had any idea of how hot the little green lizard who tried to set me on fire would turn out to be? You'd have totally have had a staring role in all my fantasies."

"I can't believe that you did this," Jared says softly, staring down at the hundreds of letters Jensen had written and mostly, if he's honest, drawn. One a week, just like Jared, for every year they'd been apart. "I love that you did this, Jen."

Jensen shrugs, awkwardly. "I figured it was my turn to show you how much you meant to me. I couldn't write back to you then, because, well, I thought I was crazy and I didn't actually get any of the ones you sent me—" He freezes, terrified he's just blurted out the fact that Jared's mother had lied to him for years, but the soft little throb of sorrowful acceptance he gets from Jared tells him he already knows.

"How did you find out?" he asks quietly, and Jared shrugs.

"I always suspected, but I knew as soon I asked you about them that you would never have have ignored them. It just took me a while to accept that she could do that."

"I'm sorry," Jensen says, thumb rubbing soothingly at the back of Jared's hand.

Jared shrugs again. "She loves me, my whole family loves me. They'll come round once they meet you."

Jensen snorts. "Something for us both to look forward to; meeting the folks. Just lets not do it any time soon, okay? I don't want my parents calling the fire department on you, and I really kind of like my head right where it is."

Jared grins, and drops a smacking kiss Jensen's lips, and then ducks around to bite hard on the lobe of his ear. "Me too," he says when Jensen lets out a muffled little moan. He reaches down while Jensen is distracted busily chasing Jared's lips to pluck the envelope from between them and waggle it in front of Jensen's face, blocking his attempts to reach him.

"So, the final letter," he teases when Jensen lets out another, louder moan of protest. "I'm assuming now based on the progression of your other 'art'," he mimes quotation marks, "this is going to be off the charts pornographic?"

"I keep telling you, it's erotic art, you heathen!"

Jared snorts, but he's careful and precise as he opens the envelope and pulls out the card with great care. The amused grin on his face fades as he stares down at the painting in his hand. Jensen holds his breath while he waits for him to speak.

"Jen, this is—" Jared trails off and raises shining eyes to meet Jensen's. "This is beautiful," he breathes, and stares back down at picture. "How did you know?"

Jensen glances at the painting, soft watercolour depicting Jared's home, the alien landscape so foreign to Jensen, but beautiful all the same. Pale amethyst tinted hills, and crystal lakes of deep peridot green sparkling in the brightness of cloudless skies and twin suns. In the foreground a small family play on lush flower dusted grass, a tiny dragon with his long, green tail wrapped around the neck of his human brother, while their parents watch on proudly.

"The bond, I think it was too much for me at first," Jensen begins and pauses to kiss away Jared's guilty frown. "Maybe because I was human," he continues, "or maybe because it was so intense, but after that passed, I started to feel things, _see_ things and I knew this place was important to you."

Jared nods jerkily. "These were Queen Cwenhild's lands, my great-grandmother. My great-grandfather gifted them to her and they made their home there. They were bequeathed to me when I came of age. I dreamed of us here, Jen, just like this. Is that, is that how you see us, too?"

Jensen grins, the happiness inside of him growing and multiplying with Jared's. "Well, I'm a little concerned where the baby dragon, and baby human for that matter, come from, because I'm pretty sure I'm not equipped for either of those scenarios, but, yeah." He leans forward and captures Jared's lips with his own. "You can sign me up for everything else."

Jared laughs, drags Jensen up into a bone-crushing hug, but not, Jensen notices, until he's placed the picture safely down on the coffee table in front of them.

"Thank you," Jared says when he pulls away, glance darting back to the painting. "I'll treasure it." He glances at the box and back over at Jensen, joy shining from him. "I'll treasure them all."

"Typical dragon," Jensen sighs, pulling Jared up to his feet.

"Bonded to a human, and living in an apartment in the middle of New York? Not really all that typical, Jensen."

"My dragon?" Jensen tries, and Jared growls, breath hot against Jensen's ear.

"Your dragon," Jared agrees.

Jensen grins. He's got absolutely no objections to that.

  


**Author's Note:**

>  **Link to the lovely art:** [Art](http://egotists.livejournal.com/111925.html) **Link to fic masterpost on LJ:** [Fic Masterpost](http://lizzywinks.livejournal.com/21019.html)  
> 


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